THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Jesnette  MacPonald 


&  SON.  INC. 

BOOKSELLERS 

STATIONERS 
ENGRAVERS    ,    ' 


S^E     Jeanette  MacDonald  Raymond   5 


Stevie's  Books 

117  N.  Third  St. 
HAMILTON,  OHIO 


"I. 


CHALIAPINE  AS  CZAR  BORIS. 


HENRY  EDWARD   KREHBIEL 


A   SECOND 
BOOK   OF   OPERAS 


GARDEN    CITY,    NEW    YORK 
GARDEN     CITY     PUBLISHING     CO.,    INC. 


COPYRIGHT,  I9O9,  AND  IQI7,  BY  THE  MAC- 
MILLAN  COMPANY.  COPYRIGHT,  I9l6,  BY 
H.  B.  KRF.HHIEU  ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 
PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 


TO 

RICHARD  ALDRICH 

OLD   AND   FAITHFUL   FRIEND,   GRACIOUS   COLLEAGUE,; 
KIND   HELPER 

„  greunbfdjatt  t£  tin  flttotenftocf  auf  SR 

—  CBAKISeO. 


2070531 


CONTENTS   AND  INDEX 

CHAPTER  I 
BIBLICAL  OPERAS 

England  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  censorship,  1  et  seq.-* 
Gounod's  "  Heine  de  Saba,"  2  —  The  transmigrations  of  "  Un 
Ballo  in  Maschera,"  2 —  How  composers  revamp  their  music,  3 
et  seq.  —  Handel  and  Keiser,  4  —  Mozart  and  Bertati,  4 —  Bee- 
thoven's readaptations  of  his  own  works,  4  —  Rossini  and  his 
"  Barber  of  Seville,"  5  —  Verdi's  "  Nebuchadnezzar,"  6  —  Rossini's 
"Moses,"  7,  9,  13  — "Samson  et  Dalila,"  8,  12  —  Goldmark's 
"Konigin  von  Saba,"  8  —  The  Biblical  operas  of  Rubinstein,  8, 
11  —  Mehul's  "Joseph,"  9  —  Mendelssohn's  "Elijah "in  dramatic 
form,  9  —  Oratorios  and  Lenten  operas  in  Italy,  9  —  Carissimi 
and  Peri,  10  —  Scarlatti's  oratorios,  10  —  Scenery  and  costumes  in 
oratorios,  11  —  The  passage  of  the  Red  Sea  and  "  Dal  tuo  stellate," 
13  —  Nerves  wrecked  by  beautiful  music,  15  —  "Peter  the  Her- 
mit" and  refractory  mimic  troops,  15  —  "Mi  manca  la  voce" 
and  operatic  amenities,  16  —  Operatic  prayers  and  ballets,  16  — 
Goethe's  criticism  of  Rossini's  "  Mose,"  17. 

CHAPTEE  II 
SIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO 

Dr.  Chrysander's  theory  of  the  undramatic  nature  of  the  Hebrew, 
his  literature,  and  his  life,  19  —  Hebrew  history  and  Greek  my- 
thology, 21  —  Some  parallels,  21  —  Old  Testament  subjects :  Adam 
and  Eve,  22  —  Cain  and  Abel,  22  —  The  "  Kain  "  of  Bulthaupt  and 
d' Albert,  23  — "Tote  Augen,"  25  — Noah  and  the  Deluge,  26  — 


viii  CONTENTS  AND  INDEX 

Abraham,  27— The  Exodus,  27  —  Mehul's  "Joseph,"  27  — Poti- 
phar'a  wife  and  Richard  Strauss,  30 — Raimondi's  contrapuntal 
trilogy,  80  —  Nebuchadnezzar,  31 — Judas  Maccabaeus,  31 — Jeph 
tha  and  his  Daughter,  32  — Judith,  33  — Esther,  33  — Athalia,  33. 

CHAPTER  III 
RUBINSTEIN  AND  HIS  "GEISTLICHE  OPER" 

Anton  Rubinstein  and  his  ideals,  34  —  An  ambition  to  emulate 
Wagner,  35  —  "  The  Tower  of  Babel,"  35, 40, 41  —  The  composer's 
theories  and  strivings,  36  et  seq.  —  Dean  Stanley,  38  —  "  Die  Mak- 
kabaer,"  39  —  "  Sulamith,"  39  —  "  Christus,"  40,  47,  48  — "Das 
Terlorene  Paradies,"  40,  41  —  "  Moses,"  40,  42  —  Action  and  stage 
directions,  41  —  New  Testament  stories  in  opera,  45  —  The  Prodi- 
gal Son,  45  —  Legendary  material  and  the  story  of  the  Nativity, 
46  —  Christ  dramas,  47  —  Hebbel  and  Wagner,  48  —  "  Parsifal,"  48. 

CHAPTER  IV 
"SAMSON  ET  DALILA" 

The  predecessors  of  M.  Saint-Saens,  51  —  Voltaire  and  Ramean, 
51  —  Duprez  and  Joachim  Raff,  52,  53  —  History  of  Saint-Saens's 
opera,  53  et  seq.  —  Henri  Regnault,  54  —  First  performances,  54  — 
As  oratorio  and  opera  in  New  York,  55  —  An  inquiry  into  the 
story  of  Samson,  56  —  Samson  and  Herakles,  57,  58  —  The  Hebrew 
hero  in  legend,  59  —  A  true  type  for  tragedy,  61  —  Mythological 
interpretations,  61  —  Saint-Saens's  opera  described,  63  et  seq.  —  A 
choral  prologue,  64  —  Local  color,  67, 78  —  The  character  of  Dalila, 
69  et  seq.  —  Milton  on  her  wife  hood  and  patriotism,  70  —  "  Prin- 
temps  qui  commence,"  73  —  "Mon  coeur  s'ouvre  h  ta  voir,"  76— » 
Oriental  ballet  music,  78  —  The  catastrophe,  80. 

CHAPTER  V 
"DIE  KONIGIN  VON  SABA" 

Meritoriousness  of  the  book  of  Goldmark's  opera,  81  —  Its  slight 
connection  with  Biblical  story,  82  —  Contents  of  the  drama,  82 


CONTENTS  AND  INDEX  k 

et  seq.  —  Parallelism  with  Wagner's  "  Tannhauser,"  85  —  Firat 
performance  in  New  York,  85  —  Oriental  luxury  in  scenic  outfit, 
86  —  Goldmark'8  music,  87. 

CHAPTER  VI 


Modern  opera  and  ancient  courtesans,  89  —  Transformed  morals 
in  Massenet's  opera,  90  —  A  sea-change  in  England,  91  —  Who 
and  what  was  Salome?  91  —  Plot  of  the  opera,  92  —  Scenic  and 
musical  adornments,  93  —  Performances  in  New  York,  94  (footnote). 

CHAPTER  VII 
"LAKM&" 

Story  of  the  opera,  95  et  seq.  —  The  "Bell  Song,"  96  —  Some 
unnecessary  English  ladies,  97  —  First  performance  in  New  York, 
98  —  American  history  of  the  opera,  99  —  Madame  Patti,  100  — 
Miss  Van  Zandt,  101  —  Madame  Sembrich,  101  —  Madame  Tet« 
razzini,  101  —  Criticism  of  the  drama,  101  —  The  music,  102. 

CHAPTER  VIII 
«  PAGLIACCI  " 

The  twin  operas,  "  Cavalleria  rusticana  "  and  "  Pagliacci,"  104 
—  Widespread  influence  of  Mascagui's  opera,  105  —  It  inspires  an 
ambition  in  Leoncavallo,  107  —  History  of  his  opera,  107  —  A 
tragic  ending  taken  from  real  life,  108  et  seq.  —  Controversy  be- 
tween Leoncavallo  and  Catulle  Mendes,  109  et  seq.  —  "  La  Femme 
de  Tabarin,"  112  —  "  Tabarin  "  operas,  113  —  The  "  Drama  Nuevo  " 
of  Estebanez  and  Mr.  Howells's  "Yorick's  Love,"  113  —  What  is 
a  Pagliaccio?  114  —  First  performances  of  the  opera  in  Milan  and 
New  York,  115  —  The  prologue,  115  et  seq.  —  The  opera  described, 
119  et  seq.  —  Bagpipes  and  vesper  bells,  120  —  Harlequin's  sere- 
nade, 105,  123  —  The  Minuet,  123  —  The  Gavotte,  124  —  "  Plaudite, 
amici,  la  commedia  finita  est!  "  125  —  Philip  Hale  on  who  should 
speak  the  final  words,  126. 


x  CONTENTS  AND  INDEX 

CHAPTER  IX 
"CAVALLERIA  RUSTIC  ANA" 

How  Mascagni's  opera  impressed  the  author  when  it  was  new, 
127 — Attic  tragedy  and  Attic  decorum,  128  —  The  loathsome 
operatic  brood  which  it  spawned,  128  —  Not  matched  by  the  com- 
poser or  his  imitators  since,  129  —  Mascagni's  account  of  how  it 
came  to  be  written,  129  el  seq.  —  Verga's  story,  131  et  seq.  —  Story 
and  libretto  compared,  135  —  The  Siciliano,  137, 140  —  The  Easter 
hymn,  137,  142 —  Analysis  of  the  opera,  137  et  seq.  —  The  prelude, 
137  —  Lola's  stornello,  144  —  The  intermezzo,  146  —  "They  have 
killed  Neighbor  Turiddu  I "  130,  149. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI 

Influence  of  "  Cavalleria  rusticana "  on  operatic  composition, 
350  — "Santuzza,"  a  German  sequel,  151  — Cilea's  "Tilda,"  128, 
152  —  Giordano's  "Mala  Vita,"  128,  152  —  Tasca's  "A  Santa 
Lucia,"  128,  153  —  Mascagni's  history,  154  et  seq.  —  Composes 
Schiller's  "Hymn  to  Joy,"  154  — "II  Filanda,"  154  —  "Ratcliff," 
129,  154,  157  — "L'Amico  Fritz,"  155  — "I  Rantzau,"  157  — 
"Silvano,"  158  — "  Zanetto,"  158,  160  — "Iris,"  159,  160,  162  — 
«Le  Maschere,"  159  — " Vistillia,"  159  — "Arnica,"  159  — Mas- 
cagni's American  visit,  159. 


CHAPTER  XI 
"IRIS" 

The  song  of  the  sun,  162  —  Allegory  and  drama,  163,  166  — 
Story  of  the  opera,  163  et  seq.  —  The  music,  167  et  seq.  —  Turbid 
orchestration,  167  —  Local  color,  167  —  Borrowings  from  Meyer- 
beer, 168. 


CONTENTS  AND  INDEX  ri 

CHAPTER  XII 
"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY" 

The  opera's  ancestry,  169  —  Loti's  "  Madame  Chrysantheme," 
169  —  John  Luther  Long's  story,  169  —  David  Belasco's  play,  169 

—  How  the  failure  of  "  Naughty  Anthony  "  suggested  "  Madame 
Butterfly,"  169  —  William  Furst  and  his  music,  171, 189  —  Success 
of  Mr.  Belasco's  play  in  New  York,  171  —  The  success  repeated  in 
London,  172  —  Brought  to  the  attention  of  Signer  Puccini,  172  — 
Kicordi  and  Co.  and  their  librettists,  172  —  "Madama  Butterfly" 
fails  in  Milan,  173  —  The  first  casts  in  Milan,  Brescia,  and  New 
York,  173  (footnote)  —  Incidents  of  the  fiasco,  174  —  Rossini  and 
Puccini,  174  —  The  opera  revised,  175  —  Interruption  of  the  vigil, 
175  —  Story  of   the   opera,  176  et  seq.  —  The  hiring  of  wives  in 
Japan,  176  —  Experiences  of  Pierre  Loti,  176  —  Geishas  and  mous- 
m6s,  178  —  A  changed  denouement,  183 — Messager's  opera,  "Ma- 
dame Chrysantheme,"  183  —  The  end  of  Loti's  romance,  184  — 
Japanese  melodies  in  the  score,  186  —  Puccini's  method  and  Wag- 
ner's,  187  —  "The   Star-Spangled  Banner,"   187  —  A  tune  from 
"  The  Mikado,"  187  —  Some  of  the  themes  of  Puccini  and  William 
Furst,  188,  189. 

CHAPTER  XIII 
"DER  ROSENKAVALIER" 

The  opera's  predecessors,  "  Guntram,"  "  Feuersnot,"  "  Salome," 
190 — Oscar  Wilde  makes  a  mistaken  appeal  to  France,  190  —  His 
necrophilism  welcomed  by  Richard  Strauss  and  Berlin,  190  — 
Conried's  efforts  to  produce  "  Salome  "  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House  suppressed,  191  —  Hammerstein  produces  the  work,  191  — 
*  Elektra,"  192  —  Hugo  von  Hoffmannsthal  and  Beaumarchais,  192 

—  Strauss    and   Mozart,    193  —  Mozart's    themes    and    Strauss's 
waltzes,  193  —  Dancing  in  Vienna  at  the  time  of  Maria  Theresa, 
193  —  First  performance  of  the  opera  at  New  York,  194  —  "  Der 
Rosenkavalier  "  and  "  Le  Nozze  di  Figaro,"  195  —  Criticism  of  the 
play  and  its  music,  195  et  seq.  — Use  of  a  melodic  phrase  from  "  Die 
Zauberflote,"  198  —  The  language  of  the  libretto,  198  —  The  music, 
199  —  Cast  of  the  first  American  performance,  200  (footnote). 


jrii  CONTENTS  AND  INDEX 

CHAPTER  XIV 
"KONIGSKINDER" 

Story  of  the  play,  201  et  seq.  —  First  production  of  Humper- 
dinck's  opera  and  cast,  203  —  Earlier  performance  of  the  work  as 
a  melodrama,  204  —  Author  and  composer,  204  —  Opera  and  melo- 
drama in  Germany,  205 — Wagnerian  symbolism  and  music,  206 

—  "Die  Meistersinger "  recalled,  207,  208  —  Hero  and  Leander, 
207  —  Humperdinck's  music,  208. 

CHAPTER  XV 

"BORIS  GODOUNOFF" 

First  performance  of  Moussorgsky's  opera  in  New  York,  209  — 
Participation  of  the  chorus  in  the  tragedy,  210  —  Imported  French 
enthusiasm,  211  —  Vocal  melody,  textual  accents  and  rhythms,  212 

—  Slavicism  expressed  in  an  Italian  translation,  212 — Moussorgsky 
and  Debussy,  213  —  Political  reasons  for  French  enthusiasm,  213 

—  Rimsky-Korsakoff's  revision  of  the  score,  214 —  Russian  operas 
in  America,  214  —  "  Nero,"  "  Pique  Dame,"  "  Eugene  Onegin," 
Verstoffsky's  "  Askold's  Tomb,"  214,  215  —  The  nationalism  of 
«« Boris  Godounoff,"  216  —  The  Kolyada  song  "Slava"  and  Bee- 
thoven, 217  —  Lack  of  the  feminine  element  in  the  drama,  218  — 
The  opera's  lack  of  coherency,  219  —  Cast  of  the  first  American 
performance,  219. 

CHAPTER   XVI 

"MADAME  SANS-G^NE"  AND  OTHER  OPERAS 
BY  GIORDANO 

First  performance  of  "Madame  Sans-Gene,"  221  —  A  singing 
Napoleon,  221 — Royalties  in  opera,  221  —  Henry  the  Fowler, 
King  Mark,  Verdi's  Pharaoh,  Herod,  Boris  Godounoff,  Macbeth, 
Gustavus  and  some  mythical  kings  and  dukes,  222  et  seq.  —  Mat- 
theson's  "Boris,"  223  — Peter  the  Great,  223  — Sardou's  play  and 
Giordano's  opera,  224 — Verdi  on  an  operatic  Bonaparte,  224  — 


CONTENTS  AND  INDEX  xiii 

Sardou's  characters,  225  —  "  Andrea  Chenier,"  226,  227,  228  — 
French  Rhythms,  226  —  "  Fedora,"  227,  228  —  "  Siberia,"  227,  229 

—  The  historic  Chenier,  228 — Russian  local  color,  229  — "Schdne 
Minka,"  229  —  "  Slava,"  229  —  "  Ay  ouchnem,"  229  —  French 
revolutionary  airs,  230  —  " La  Marseillaise,"  230  —  "La  Carma- 
gnole," 230  —  «  ga  ira,"  231. 

CHAPTER  XVII 
TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI 

The  composer's  operas  first  sung  in  their  original  tongue  in 
America,  232  —  First  performances  of  "  Le  Donne  Curiose,"  u  H 
Segreto  di  Susanna,"  "  I  Giojelli  della  Madonna,"  "  L'Amore 
Medico,"  232  —  Story  and  music  of  "  Le  Donne  Curiose,"  234  — 
Methods  and  apparatus  of  Mozart's  day,  235 —  Wolf  -Ferrari's  Teu- 
tonism,  235  —  Goldoni  paraphrased,  235  —  Nicolai  and  Verdi,  236 

—  The  German  version  of  "  Donne  Curiose,"  237  —  Musical  motivi 
in  the  opera,  237  —  Rameau's  "La  Poule,"  237  —  Cast  of  the  first 
performance  in  New  York,  238   (footnote)  —  Naples  and  opera, 
239  — "I  Giojelli  della  Madonna,"  239  et  seq.  —  Erlanger's  "  Aph- 
rodite," 240 —  Neapolitan  folksongs,  241  —  Wolf -Ferrari's  Individ- 
uality, 242  —  His  "  Vita  Nuova,"  242  —  First  performance  in 
America  of  "  I  Giojelli,"  243. 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


CHAPTER  I 

BIBLICAL  OPERAS 

WHETHER  or  not  the  English  owe  a  grudge  to  their 
Lord  Chamberlain  for  depriving  them  of  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  operas  based  on  Biblical  stories  I  do 
not  know.  If  they  do,  the  grudge  cannot  be  a  deep 
one,  for  it  is  a  long  time  since  Biblical  operas  were  in 
vogue,  and  in  the  case  of  the  very  few  survivals  it 
has  been  easy  to  solve  the  difficulty  and  salve  the 
conscience  of  the  public  censor  by  the  simple  device  of 
changing  the  names  of  the  characters  and  the  scene 
of  action  if  the  works  are  to  be  presented  on  the 
stage,  or  omitting  scenery,  costumes  and  action  and 
performing  them  as  oratorios.  In  either  case,  when- 
ever this  has  been  done,  however,  it  has  been  the  habit 
of  critics  to  make  merry  at  the  expense  of  my  Lord 
Chamberlain  and  the  puritanicalness  of  the  popular 
spirit  of  which  he  is  supposed  to  be  the  official  embod- 
iment, and  to  discourse  lugubriously  and  mayhap 
profoundly  on  the  perversion  of  composers'  purposes 
and  the  loss  of  things  essential  to  the  lyric  drama. 


2  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

It  may  be  heretical  to  say  so,  but  is  it  not  possible 
that  Lord  Chamberlain  and  Critic  have  both  taken 
too  serious  a  view  of  the  matter?  There  is  a  vast 
amount  of  admirable  material  in  the  Bible  (historical, 
legendary  or  mythical,  as  one  happens  to  regard  it), 
which  would  not  necessarily  be  degraded  by  dramatic 
treatment,  and  which  might  be  made  entertaining  as 
well  as  edifying,  as  it  has  been  made  in  the  past,  by 
stage  representation.  Reverence  for  this  material 
is  neither  inculcated  nor  preserved  by  shifting  the 
scene  and  throwing  a  veil  over  names  too  transparent 
to  effect  a  disguise.  Moreover,  when  this  is  done, 
there  is  always  danger  that  the  process  may  involve 
a  sacrifice  of  the  respect  to  which  a  work  of  art  is 
entitled  on  its  merits  as  such.  Gounod,  in  collab- 
oration with  Barbier  and  Carre*,  wrote  an  opera 
entitled  "La  Reine  de  Saba."  The  plot  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  Bible  beyond  the  name  of  Sheba's 
Queen  and  King  Solomon.  Mr.  Farnie,  who  used  to 
make  comic  operetta  books  in  London,  adapted  the 
French  libretto  for  performance  in  English  and  called 
the  opera  "Irene."  What  a  title  for  a  grand  opera ! 
Why  not  "Blanche"  or  "Arabella"?  No  doubt 
such  a  thought  flitted  through  many  a  careless  mind 
unconscious  that  an  Irene  was  a  Byzantine  Empress 
of  the  eighth  century,  who,  by  her  devotion  to  its 
tenets,  won  beatification  after  death  from  the  Greek 
Church.  The  opera  failed  on  the  Continent  as  well 
as  in  London,  but  if  it  had  not  been  given  a  comic 
operetta  flavor  by  its  title  and  association  with  the 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  3 

name  of  the  excellent  Mr.  Farnie,  would  the  change 
in  supposed  time,  place  and  people  have  harmed  it  ? 

A  few  years  ago  I  read  (with  amusement,  of  course) 
of  the  metamorphosis  to  which  Massenet's  "He>odi- 
ade  "  was  subjected  so  that  it  might  masquerade  for  a 
brief  space  on  the  London  stage;  but  when  I  saw 
the  opera  in  New  York  "in  the  original  package" 
(to  speak  commercially),  I  could  well  believe  that  the 
music  sounded  the  same  in  London,  though  John  the 
Baptist  sang  under  an  alias  and  the  painted  scenes 
were  supposed  to  delineate  Ethiopia  instead  of 
Palestine. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  nonsensical  affectation  in 
the  talk  about  the  intimate  association  in  the  minds 
of  composers  of  music,  text,  incident,  and  original 
purpose.  "  Un  Ballo  in  Maschera,"  as  we  see  it  most 
often  nowadays,  plays  in  Nomansland ;  but  I  fancy 
that  its  music  would  sound  pretty  much  the  same 
if  the  theatre  of  action  were  transplanted  back  to 
Sweden,  whence  it  came  originally,  or  left  in  Naples, 
whither  it  emigrated,  or  in  Boston,  to  which  highly 
inappropriate  place  it  was  banished  to  oblige  the 
Neapolitan  censor.  So  long  as  composers  have  the 
habit  of  plucking  feathers  out  of  their  dead  birds  to 
make  wings  for  their  new,  we  are  likely  to  remain 
in  happy  and  contented  ignorance  of  mesalliances 
between  music  and  score,  until  they  are  pointed  out 
by  too  curious  critics  or  confessed  by  the  author. 
What  is  present  habit  was  former  custom  to  which 
no  kind  or  degree  of  stigma  attached.  Bach  did 


4  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

it ;  Handel  did  it ;  nor  was  either  of  these  worthies 
always  scrupulous  in  distinguishing  between  meum 
and  tuum  when  it  came  to  appropriating  existing 
thematic  material.  In  their  day  the  merit  of  in- 
dividuality and  the  right  of  property  lay  more  in 
the  manner  in  which  ideas  were  presented  than 
in  the  ideas  themselves. 

In  1886  I  spent  a  delightful  day  with  Dr.  Chry- 
sander  at  his  home  in  Bergedorf,  near  Hamburg, 
and  he  told  me  the  story  of  how  on  one  occasion, 
when  Reiser  was  incapacitated  by  the  vice  to  which 
he  was  habitually  prone,  Handel,  who  sat  in  his 
orchestra,  was  asked  by  him  to  write  the  necessary 
opera.  Handel  complied,  and  his  success  was  too 
great  to  leave  Reiser's  mind  in  peace.  So  he  reset 
the  book.  Before  Reiser's  setting  was  ready  for 
production  Handel  had  gone  to  Italy.  Hearing  of 
Reiser's  act,  he  secured  a  copy  of  the  new  setting 
from  a  member  of  the  orchestra  and  sent  back  to 
Hamburg  a  composition  based  on  Reiser's  melodies 
"to  show  how  such  themes  ought  to  be  treated." 
Dr.  Chrysander,  also,  when  he  gave  me  a  copy  of 
Bertati's  "Don  Giovanni"  libretto,  for  which  Gazza- 
niga  composed  the  music,  told  me  that  Mozart  had 
been  only  a  little  less  free  than  the  poet  in  appro- 
priating ideas  from  the  older  work. 

One  of  the  best  pieces  in  the  final  scene  of  "  Fidelio  " 
was  taken  from  a  cantata  on  the  death  of  the  emperor 
of  Austria,  composed  by  Beethoven  before  he  left 
Bonn.  The  melody  originally  conceived  for  the 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  3 

last  movement  of  the  Symphony  in  D  minor  was 
developed  into  the  finale  of  one  of  the  last  string 
quartets.  In  fact  the  instances  in  which  composers 
have  put  their  pieces  to  widely  divergent  purposes 
are  innumerable  and  sometimes  amusing,  in  view 
of  the  fantastic  belief  that  they  are  guided  by 
plenary  inspiration.  The  overture  which  Rossini 
wrote  for  his  "Barber  of  Seville"  was  lost  soon 
after  the  first  production  of  the  opera.  The  com- 
poser did  not  take  the  trouble  to  write  another, 
but  appropriated  one  which  had  served  its  purpose- 
in  an  earlier  work.  Persons  ignorant  of  that  fact, 
but  with  lively  imaginations,  as  I  have  said  in  one 
of  my  books,1  have  rhapsodized  on  its  appositeness, 
and  professed  to  hear  in  it  the  whispered  plottings 
of  the  lovers  and  the  merry  raillery  of  Rosina  con- 
trasted with  the  futile  ragings  of  her  grouty  guardian ; 
but  when  Rossini  composed  this  piece  of  music  its 
mission  was  to  introduce  an  adventure  of  the  Em- 
peror Aurelianus  in  Palmyra  in  the  third  century 
of  the  Christian  era.  Having  served  that  purpose 
it  became  the  prelude  to  another  opera  which  dealt 
with  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England,  a  monarch  who 
reigned  some  twelve  hundred  years  after  Aurelianus. 
Again,  before  the  melody  now  known  as  that  of 
Almaviva's  cavatina  had  burst  into  the  efflorescence 
which  now  distinguishes  it,  it  came  as  a  chorus 
from  the  mouths  of  Cyrus  and  his  Persians  in  ancient 
Babylon. 

i  "A  Book  of  Operas,"  p.  9. 


6  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

When  Mr.  Lumley  desired  to  produce  Verdi's 
"Nabucodonosor"  (called  "Nabucco"  for  short) 
in  London  in  1846  he  deferred  to  English  tradition 
and  brought  out  the  opera  as  "Nino,  R£  d'Assyria." 
I  confess  that  I  cannot  conceive  how  changing  a 
king  of  Babylon  to  a  king  of  Assyria  could  possibly 
have  brought  about  a  change  one  way  or  the  other 
in  the  effectiveness  of  Verdi's  Italian  music,  but 
Mr.  Lumley  professed  to  have  found  in  the  trans- 
formation reason  for  the  English  failure.  At  any 
rate,  he  commented,  in  his  "Reminiscences  of  the 
Opera,"  "That  the  opera  thus  lost  much  of  its 
original  character,  especially  in  the  scene  where 
the  captive  Israelites  became  very  uninteresting 
Babylonians,  and  was  thereby  shorn  of  one  element 
of  success  present  on  the  Continent,  is  undeniable." 

There  is  another  case  even  more  to  the  purpose 
of  this  present  discussion.  In  1818  Rossini  pro- 
duced his  opera  "Mose"  in  Egitto"  in  Naples.  The 
strength  of  the  work  lay  in  its  choruses;  yet  two 
of  them  were  borrowed  from  the  composer's  "Ar- 
mida."  In  1822  Bochsa  performed  it  as  an  oratorio 
at  Covent  Garden,  but,  says  John  Ebers  in  his 
"Seven  Years  of  the  King's  Theatre,"  published 
in  1828,  "the  audience  accustomed  to  the  weighty 
metal  and  pearls  of  price  of  Handel's  compositions 
found  the  'Moses'  as  dust  in  the  balance  in  com- 
parison." "The  oratorio  having  failed  as  com- 
pletely as  erst  did  Pharaoh's  host,"  Ebers  con- 
tinues, "the  ashes  of  'Mose:  in  Egitto'  revived  in 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  7 

the  form  of  an  opera  entitled  'Pietro  1'Eremita.' 
Moses  was  transformed  into  Peter.  In  this  form 
the  opera  was  as  successful  as  it  had  been  unfor- 
tunate as  an  oratorio.  .  .  .  'Mose  in  Egitto'  was 
condemned  as  cold,  dull,  and  heavy.  'Pietro 
1'Eremita,'  Lord  Sefton,  one  of  the  most  compe- 
tent judges  of  the  day,  pronounced  to  be  the  most 
effective  opera  produced  within  his  recollection; 
and  the  public  confirmed  the  justice  of  the  remark, 
for  no  opera  during  my  management  had  such  un- 
equivocal success."  *  This  was  not  the  end  of  the 
opera's  vicissitudes,  to  some  of  which  I  shall  recur 
presently ;  let  this  suffice  now : 

Rossini  rewrote  it  in  1827,  adding  some  new  music 
for  the  Academic  Royal  in  Paris,  and  called  it 
"Moise";  when  it  was  revived  for  the  Covent 
Garden  oratorios,  London,  in  1833,  it  was  not  only 
performed  with  scenery  and  dresses,  but  recruited 
with  music  from  Handel's  oratorio  and  renamed 
"The  Israelites  in  Egypt;  or  the  Passage  of  the 
Red  Sea";  when  the  French  "Moise"  reached 
the  Royal  Italian  Opera,  Covent  Garden,  in  April, 
1850,  it  had  still  another  name,  "Zora,"  though 
Chorley  does  not  mention  the  fact  in  his  "Thirty 
Years'  Musical  Recollections,"  probably  because 
the  failure  of  the  opera  which  he  loved  grieved 
him  too  deeply.  For  a  long  time  "Moses"  oc- 
cupied a  prominent  place  among  oratorios.  The 

»"  Seven  Years  of  the  Bang's  Theatre,"  by  John  Ebers, 
pp.  157,  158. 


8  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Handel  and  Haydn  Society  of  Boston  adopted  it 
in  1845,  and  between  then  and  1878  performed  it 
forty-five  times. 

In  all  the  years  of  my  intimate  association  with 
the  lyric  drama  (considerably  more  than  the  num- 
ber of  which  Mr.  Chorley  has  left  us  a  record)  I 
have  seen -but  one  opera  in  which  the  plot  adheres 
to  the  Biblical  story  indicated  by  its  title.  That 
opera  is  Saint-Saens's  "Samson  et  Dalila."  I  have 
seen  others  whose  titles  and  dramatis  personce  sug- 
gested narratives  found  in  Holy  Writ,  but  in  nearly 
all  these  cases  it  would  be  a  profanation  of  the 
Book  to  call  them  Biblical  operas.  Those  which 
come  to  mind  are  Goldmark's  "Konigin  von  Saba," 
Massenet's  "Herodiade"  and  Richard  Strauss's 
"Salome."  I  have  heard,  in  whole  or  part,  but 
not  seen,  three  of  the  works  which  Rubinstein 
would  fain  have  us  believe  are  opeias,  but  which 
are  not  —  "Das  verlorene  Paradies,"  "Der  Thurm- 
bau  zu  Babel"  and  "Moses" ;  and  I  have  a  study 
acquaintance  with  the  books  and  scores  of  his 
"Maccabaer,"  which  is  an  opera;  his  "Sulamith," 
which  tries  to  be  one,  and  his  "Christus,"  which 
marks  the  culmination  of  the  vainest  effort  that  a 
contemporary  composer  made  to  parallel  Wagner's 
achievement  on  a  different  line.  There  are  other 
works  which  are  sufficiently  known  to  me  through 
library  communion  or  concert-room  contact  to 
enable  me  to  claim  enough  acquaintanceship  to 
justify  converse  about  them  and  which  must  per- 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  9 

force  occupy  attention  in  this  study.  Chiefest  and 
noblest  of  these  are  Rossini's  "Moses"  and  Mehul's 
"Joseph."  Finally,  there  are  a  few  with  which  I 
have  only  a  passing  or  speaking  acquaintance; 
whose  faces  I  can  recognize,  fragments  of  whose 
speech  I  know,  and  whose  repute  is  such  that  I 
can  contrive  to  guess  at  their  hearts  —  such  as 
Verdi's  "  Nabucodonosor "  and  Gounod's  "Reine  de 
Saba." 

Rossini's  "Moses"  was  the  last  of  the  Italian 
operas  (the  last  by  a  significant  composer,  at  least) 
which  used  to  be  composed  to  ease  the  Lenten 
conscience  in  pleasure-loving  Italy.  Though  written 
to  be  played  with  the  adjuncts  of  scenery  and  cos- 
tumes, it  has  less  of  action  than  might  easily  be 
infused  into  a  performance  of  Mendelssohn's  "Eli- 
jah," and  the  epical  element  which  finds  its  ex- 
position in  the  choruses  is  far  greater  than  that  in 
any  opera  of  its  time  with  which  I  am  acquainted. 
In  both  its  aspects,  as  oratorio  and  as  opera,  it 
harks  back  to  a  time  when  the  two  forms  were 
essentially  the  same  save  in  respect  of  subject 
matter.  It  is  a  convenient  working  hypothesis  to 
take  the  classic  tragedy  of  Hellas  as  the  progenitor 
of  the  opera.  It  can  also  be  taken  as  the  prototype 
of  the  Festival  of  the  Ass,  which  was  celebrated  as 
long  ago  as  the  twelfth  century  in  France;  of  the 
miracle  plays  which  were  performed  in  England  at 
the  same  time;  the  Commedia  spirituale  of  thir- 
teenth-century Italy  and  the  Geistliche  Schauspide 


10  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

of  fourteenth-century  Germany.  These  mummeries, 
with  their  admixture  of  church  song,  pointed  the 
way  as  media  of  edification  to  the  dramatic  repre- 
sentations of  Biblical  scenes  which  Saint  Philip 
Neri  used  to  attract  audiences  to  hear  his  sermons 
in  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  in  Vallicella,  in  Rome, 
and  the  sacred  musical  dramas  came  to  be  called 
oratorios.  While  the  camerata  were  seeking  to  re- 
vive the  classic  drama  in  Florence,  Carissimi  was 
experimenting  with  sacred  material  in  Rome,  and 
his  epoch-making  allegory,  "La  Rappresentazione 
dell'  Anima  e  del  Corpo,"  was  brought  out,  almost 
simultaneously  with  Peri's  "Euridice,"  in  1600. 
Putting  off  the  fetters  of  plainsong,  music  became 
beautiful  for  its  own  sake,  and  as  an  agent  of 
dramatic  expression.  His  excursions  into  Biblical 
story  were  followed  for  a  century  or  more  by  the 
authors  of  sacra  azione,  written  to  take  the  place 
of  secular  operas  in  Lent.  The  stories  of  Jephtha 
and  his  daughter,  Hezekiah,  Belshazzar,  Abraham 
and  Isaac,  Jonah,  Job,  the  Judgment  of  Solomon, 
and  the  Last  Judgment  became  the  staple  of  opera 
composers  in  Italy  and  Germany  for  more  than  a 
century.  Alessandro  Scarlatti,  whose  name  looms 
large  in  the  history  of  opera,  also  composed  oratorios ; 
and  Mr.  E.  J.  Dent,  his  biographer,  has  pointed 
out  that  "except  that  the  operas  are  in  three  acts 
and  the  oratorios  in  two,  the  only  difference  is  in 
the  absence  of  professedly  comic  characters  and  of 
the  formal  statement  in  which  the  author  protests 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  11 

that  the  words  fato,  dio,  dieta,  etc.,  are  only  scherzi 
poetici  and  imply  nothing  contrary  to  the  Catholic 
faith."  Zeno  and  Metastasio  wrote  texts  for  sacred 
operas  as  well  as  profane,  with  Tobias,  Absalom, 
Joseph,  David,  Daniel,  and  Sisera  as  subjects. 

Presently  I  shall  attempt  a  discussion  of  the 
gigantic  attempt  made  by  Rubinstein  to  enrich 
the  stage  with  an  art-form  to  which  he  gave  a  dis- 
tinctive name,  but  which  was  little  else  than  an 
inflated  type  of  the  old  sacra  azione,  employing 
the  larger  apparatus  which  modern  invention  and 
enterprise  have  placed  at  the  command  of  the 
playwright,  stage  manager,  and  composer.  I  am 
compelled  to  see  in  his  project  chiefly  a  jealous 
ambition  to  rival  the  great  and  triumphant  accom- 
plishment of  Richard  Wagner,  but  it  is  possible 
that  he  had  a  prescient  eye  on  a  coming  time.  The 
desire  to  combine  pictures  with  oratorio  has  sur- 
vived the  practice  which  prevailed  down  to  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Handel  used 
scenes  and  costumes  when  he  produced  his  "Esther," 
as  well  as  his  "Acis  and  Galatea,"  in  London.  Dit- 
tersdorf  has  left  for  us  a  description  of  the  stage 
decorations  prepared  for  his  oratorios  when  they 
were  performed  in  the  palace  of  the  Bishop  of 
Groswardein.  Of  late  years  there  have  been  a 
number  of  theatrical  representations  of  Mendels- 
sohn's "Elijah."  I  have  witnessed  as  well  as  heard 
a  performance  of  "Acis  and  Galatea"  and  been 
entertained  with  the  spectacle  of  Polyphemus  crush- 


12  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

ing  the  head  of  presumptuous  Ads  with  a  stave 
like  another  Fafner  while  singing  "Fly,  thou  massy 
ruin,  fly"  to  the  bludgeon  which  was  playing  under- 
study for  the  fatal  rock. 

This  diverting  incident  brings  me  to  a  considera- 
tion of  one  of  the  difficulties  which  stand  in  the 
way  of  effective  stage  pictures  combined  with 
action  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  most  admired 
of  the  subjects  for  oratorios  or  sacred  opera.  It 
was  not  the  Lord  Chamberlain  who  stood  in  the 
way  of  Saint-Saens's  "Samson  et  Dalila"  in  the 
United  States  for  many  years,  but  the  worldly 
wisdom  of  opera  managers  who  shrank  from  attempt- 
ing to  stage  the  spectacle  of  the  falling  Temple  of 
Dagon,  and  found  in  the  work  itself  a  plentiful 
lack  of  that  dramatic  movement  which  is  to-day 
considered  more  essential  to  success  than  beautiful 
and  inspiriting  music.  "Samson  et  Dalila"  was 
well  known  in  its  concert  form  when  the  manage- 
ment of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  first  at- 
tempted to  introduce  it  as  an  opera.  It  had  a 
single  performance  in  the  season  of  1894-1895  and 
then  sought  seclusion  from  the  stage  lamps  for 
twenty  years.  It  was,  perhaps,  fortunate  for  the 
work  that  no  attempt  was  made  to  repeat  it,  for, 
though  well  sung  and  satisfactorily  acted,  the  top- 
pling of  the  pillars  of  the  temple,  discreetly  sup- 
ported by  too  visible  wires,  at  the  conclusion  made 
a,  stronger  appeal  to  the  popular  sense  of  the  ridic- 
ulous than  even  Saint-Saens's  music  could  with- 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  13 

stand.  It  is  easy  to  inveigh  against  the  notion 
that  frivolous  fribbles  and  trumpery  trappings 
should  receive  more  attention  than  the  fine  music 
which  ought  to  be  recognized  as  the  soul  of  the 
work,  the  vital  spark  which  irradiates  an  inconse- 
quential material  body;  but  human  nature  has 
not  yet  freed  itself  sufficiently  from  gross  clogs  to 
attain  so  ideal  an  attitude. 

It  is  to  a  danger  similar  to  that  which  threatened 
the  original  New  York  "Samson"  that  the  world 
owes  the  most  popular  melody  in  Rossini's  "  Mose." 
The  story  is  old  and  familiar  to  the  students  of 
operatic  history,  but  will  bear  retelling.  The  plague 
of  darkness  opens  the  opera,  the  passage  of  the 
Red  Sea  concludes  it.  Rossini's  stage  manager 
had  no  difficulty  with  the  former,  which  demanded 
nothing  more  than  the  lowering  of  the  stage  lights. 
But  he  could  evolve  no  device  which  could  save  the 
final  miracle  from  laughter.  A  hilarious  ending  to 
so  solemn  a  work  disturbed  the  management  and 
the  librettist,  Totola,  who,  just  before  a  projected 
revival  in  Naples,  a  year  or  two  after  the  first 
production,  came  to  the  composer  with  a  project 
for  saving  the  third  act.  Rossini  was  in  bed,  as 
usual,  and  the  poet  showed  him  the  text  of  the 
prayer,  "  Dal  tuo  stellato,"  which  he  said  he  had 
written  in  an  hour.  "I  will  get  up  and  write  the 
music,"  said  Rossini ;  "you  shall  have  it  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour."  And  he  kept  his  word,  whether  liter- 
ally or  not  in  respect  of  time  does  not  matter.  When 


14 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


the  opera  was  again  performed  it  contained  the 
chorus  with  its  melody  which  provided  Paganini 
with  material  for  one  of  his  sensational  performances 
on  the  G-string. 


Andante 


Carpani  tells  the  story  and  describes  the  effect 
upon  the  audience  which  heard  it  for  the  first  time. 
Laughter  was  just  beginning  in  the  pit  when  the 
public  was  surprised  to  note  that  Moses  was  about 
to  sing.  The  people  stopped  laughing  and  pre- 
pared to  listen.  They  were  awed  by  the  beauty 
of  the  minor  strain  which  was  echoed  by  Aaron 
and  then  by  the  chorus  of  Israelites.  The  host 
marched  across  the  mimic  sea  and  fell  on  its  knees, 
and  the  music  burst  forth  again,  but  now  in  the 
major  mode.  And  now  the  audience  joined  in  the 
jubilation.  The  people  in  the  boxes,  says  Carpani, 
stood  up ;  they  leaned  over  the  railings ;  applauded ; 
they  shouted :  "Bello  !  bello  !  0  che  bello  !"  Car- 
pani adds :  "I  am  almost  in  tears  when  I  think  of 
this  prayer."  An  impressionable  folk,  those  Italians 
of  less  than  a  century  ago.  "Among  other  things 
that  can  be  said  in  praise  of  our  hero,"  remarked  a 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  15 

physician  to  Carpani,  amidst  the  enthusiasm  caused 
by  the  revamped  opera,  "do  not  forget  that  he  is 
an  assassin.  I  can  cite  to  you  more  than  forty 
attacks  of  nervous  fever  or  violent  convulsions  on 
the  part  of  young  women,  fond  to  excess  of  music, 
which  have  no  other  origin  than  the  prayer  of  the  He- 
brews in  the  third  act  with  its  superb  change  of  key  ! " 
Thus  music  saved  the  scene  in  Naples.  When 
the  opera  was  rewritten  for  London  and  made  to 
tell  a  story  about  Peter  the  Hermit,  the  correspond- 
ing scene  had  to  be  elided  after  the  first  performance. 
Ebers  tells  the  story :  "  A  body  of  troops  was  sup- 
posed to  pass  over  a  bridge  which,  breaking,  was 
to  precipitate  them  into  the  water.  The  troops 
being  made  of  basketwork  and  pulled  over  the 
bridge  by  ropes,  unfortunately  became  refractory 
on  their  passage,  and  very  sensibly  refused,  when 
the  bridge  was  about  to  give  way,  to  proceed  any 
further;  consequently  when  the  downfall  of  the 
arches  took  place  the  basket  men  remained  very 
quietly  on  that  part  of  the  bridge  which  was  left 
standing,  and  instead  of  being  consigned  to  the 
waves  had  nearly  been  set  on  fire.  The  audience, 
not  giving  the  troops  due  credit  for  their  prudence, 
found  no  little  fault  with  their  compliance  with  the 
law  of  self-preservation.  In  the  following  represen- 
tations of  the  opera  the  bridge  and  basket  men 
which,  en  passant  (or  en  restant  rather),  had  cost 
fifty  pounds,  were  omitted."1  When  "Molse"  was 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  160. 


16  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

prepared  in  Paris  45,000  francs  were  sunk  in  the 
Red  Sea. 

I  shall  recur  in  a  moment  to  the  famous  preghiera 
but,  having  Ebers'  book  before  me,  I  see  an  anec- 
dote so  delightfully  illustrative  of  the  proverbial 
spirit  of  the  lyric  theatre  that  I  cannot  resist  the 
temptation  to  repeat  it.  In  the  revised  "Moses" 
made  for  Paris  there  occurs  a  quartet  beginning 
"Mi  manca  la  voce"  ("I  lack  voice")  which  Chorley 
describes  as  "a  delicious  round."  Camporese  had 
to  utter  the  words  first  and  no  sooner  had  she  done 
so  than  Ronzi  di  Begnis,  in  a  whisper,  loud  enough 
to  be  heard  by  her  companion,  made  the  comment 
"E  vero!"  ("True!")  — "a  remark,"  says  Mr. 
Ebers,  "which  produced  a  retort  courteous  some- 
what more  than  verging  on  the  limit  of  decorum, 
though  not  proceeding  to  the  extremity  asserted 
by  rumor,  which  would  have  been  as  inconsistent 
with  propriety  as  with  the  habitual  dignity  and  self- 
possession  of  Camporese's  demeanor." 

Somebody,  I  cannot  recall  who,  has  said  that  the 
success  of  "Dal  tuo  stellato"  set  the  fashion  of 
introducing  prayers  into  operas.  Whether  this  be 
true  or  not,  it  is  a  fact  that  a  prayer  occurs  in  four 
of  the  operas  which  Rossini  composed  for  the  Paris 
Grand  Opera  and  that  the  formula  is  become  so 
common  that  it  may  be  set  down  as  an  operatic 
convention,  —  a  convention,  moreover,  which  even 
the  iconoclast  Wagner  left  undisturbed.  One  might 
think  that  the  propriety  of  prayer  in  a  religious 


BIBLICAL  OPERAS  17 

drama  would  have  been  enforced  upon  the  mind 
of  a  classicist  like  Goethe  by  his  admiration  for  the 
antique,  but  it  was  the  fact  that  Rossini's  opera 
showed  the  Israelites  upon  their  knees  in  supplica- 
tion to  God  that  set  the  great  German  poet  against 
"Mose."  In  a  conversation  recorded  by  Ecker- 
mann  as  taking  place  in  1828,  we  hear  him  uttering 
his  objection  to  the  work:  "I  do  not  understand 
how  you  can  separate  and  enjoy  separately  the 
subject  and  the  music.  You  pretend  here  that  the 
subject  is  worthless,  but  you  are  consoled  for  it 
by  a  feast  of  excellent  music.  I  wonder  that  your 
nature  is  thus  organized  that  your  ear  can  listen 
to  charming  sounds  while  your  sight,  the  most  per- 
fect of  your  senses,  is  tormented  by  absurd  objects. 
You  will  not  deny  that  your  'Moses'  is  in  effect 
very  absurd.  The  curtain  is  raised  and  people  are 
praying.  This  is  all  wrong.  The  Bible  says  that 
when  you  pray  you  should  go  into  your  chamber 
and  close  the  door.  Therefore,  there  should  be  no 
praying  in  the  theatre.  As  for  me,  I  should  have 
arranged  a  wholly  different  '  Moses.'  At  first  I 
should  have  shown  the  children  of  Israel  bowed 
down  by  countless  odious  burdens  and  suffering 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  Egyptian  rulers.  Then 
you  would  have  appreciated  more  easily  what 
Moses  deserved  from  his  race,  which  he  had  de- 
livered from  a  shameful  oppression."  "Then," 
says  Mr.  Philip  Hale,  who  directed  my  attention 
to  this  interesting  passage,  "Goethe  went  on  to 


18  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

reconstruct  the  whole  opera.  He  introduced,  for 
instance,  a  dance  of  the  Egyptians  after  the  plague 
of  darkness  was  dispelled." 

May  not  one  criticise  Goethe?  If  he  so  greatly 
reverenced  prayer,  according  to  its  institution  under 
the  New  Dispensation,  why  did  he  not  show  regard 
also  for  the  Old  and  respect  the  verities  of  history 
sufficiently  to  reserve  his  ballet  till  after  the  passage 
of  the  Red  Sea,  when  Moses  celebrated  the  miracle 
with  a  song  and  "  Miriam,  the  prophetess,  the  sister 
of  Aaron,  took  a  timbrel  in  her  hand ;  and  all  the 
women  went  out  after  her  with  timbrels  and  with 
dances"? 


CHAPTER  H 

BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO 

IT  was  the  fond  belief  of  Dr.  Chrysander,  born 
of  his  deep  devotion  to  Handel,  in  whose  works  he 
lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being,  that  the  heroic 
histories  of  the  Jews  offered  no  fit  material  for 
dramatic  representation.  In  his  view  the  Jews 
never  created  dramatic  poetry,  partly  because  of 
the  Mosaic  prohibition  against  plastic  delineation 
of  their  Deity,  partly  because  the  tragic  element, 
which  was  so  potent  an  influence  in  the  development 
of  the  Greek  drama,  was  wanting  in  their  heroes. 
The  theory  that  the  Song  of  Songs,  that  canticle 
of  canticles  of  love,  was  a  pastoral  play  had  no 
lodgment  in  his  mind ;  the  poem  seemed  less  dramatic 
to  him  than  the  Book  of  Job.  The  former  sprang 
from  the  idyllic  life  of  the  northern  tribes  and  re- 
flected that  life;  the  latter,  much  more  profound 
in  conception,  proved  by  its  form  that  the  road  to 
a  real  stage-play  was  insurmountably  barred  to  the 
Hebrew  poet.  What  poetic  field  was  open  to  him 
then?  Only  the  hymning  of  a  Deity,  invisible, 
omnipresent  and  omnipotent,  the  swelling  call  to 
combat  for  the  glory  of  God  against  an  inimical 
world,  and  the  celebration  of  an  ideal  consisting  in 

19 


20  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

a  peaceful,  happy  existence  in  the  Land  of  Promise 
under  God's  protecting  care.  This  God  presented 
Himself  occasionally  as  a  militant,  all-powerful 
warrior,  but  only  in  moments  when  the  fortunes 
of  His  people  were  critically  at  issue.  These  mo- 
ments, however,  were  exceptional  and  few;  as  a 
rule,  God  manifested  Himself  in  prophecy,  through 
words  and  music.  The  laws  were  promulgated  in 
song ;  so  were  the  prophetic  promises,  denunciations, 
and  calls  to  repentance ;  and  there  grew  up  a  mag- 
nificent liturgical  service  in  the  temple. 

Hebrew  poetry,  epic  and  lyrical,  was  thus  an- 
tagonistic to  the  drama.  So,  also,  Dr.  Chrysander 
contends,  was  the  Hebrew  himself.  Not  only  had 
he  no  predilection  for  plastic  creation,  his  life  was 
not  dramatic  in  the  sense  illustrated  in  Greek 
tragedy.  He  lived  a  care-free,  sensuous  existence, 
and  either  fell  under  righteous  condemnation  for  his 
transgressions  or  walked  in  the  way  prescribed  of 
the  Lord  and  found  rest  at  last  in  Abraham's  bosom. 
His  life  was  simple ;  so  were  his  strivings,  his  long' 
ings,  his  hopes.  Yet  when  it  came  to  the  defence 
or  celebration  of  his  spiritual  possessions  his  soul 
was  filled  with  such  a  spirit  of  heroic  daring,  such  a 
glow  of  enthusiasm,  as  are  not  to  be  paralleled  among 
another  of  the  peoples  of  antiquity.  He  thus  be- 
came a  fit  subject  for  only  one  of  the  arts  —  music ; 
in  this  art  for  only  one  of  its  spheres,  the  sublime, 
the  most  appropriate  and  efficient  vehicle  of  which 
is  the  oratorio. 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    21 

One  part  of  this  argument  seems  to  me  irrelevant ; 
the  other  not  firmly  founded  in  fact.  It  does  not 
follow  that  because  the  Greek  conscience  evolved 
the  conceptions  of  rebellious  pride  and  punitive 
Fate  while  the  Hebrew  conscience  did  not,  therefore 
the  Greeks  were  the  predestined  creators  of  the 
art-form  out  of  which  grew  the  opera  and  the  He- 
brews of  the  form  which  grew  into  the  oratorio. 
Neither  is  it  true  that  because  a  people  are  not 
disposed  toward  dramatic  creation  themselves  they 
can  not,  or  may  not,  be  the  cause  of  dramatic 
creativeness  in  others.  Dr.  Chrysander's  argument, 
made  in  a  lecture  at  the  Johanneum  in  Hamburg  in 
1896,  preceded  an  analysis  of  Handel's  Biblical 
oratorios  in  their  relation  to  Hebrew  history,  and 
his  exposition  of  that  history  as  he  unfolded  it 
chronologically  from  the  Exodus  down  to  the 
Maccabsean  period  was  in  it&elf  sufficient  to  furnish 
many  more  fit  operatic  plots  than  have  yet  been 
written.  Nor  are  there  lacking  in  these  stories 
some  of  the  elements  of  Greek  legend  and  mythology 
which  were  the  mainsprings  of  the  tragedies  of 
Athens.  The  parallels  are  striking:  Jephtha's 
daughter  and  Iphigenia ;  Samson  and  his  slavery 
and  the  servitude  of  Hercules  and  Perseus;  the 
fate  of  Ajax  and  other  heroes  made  mad  by  pride, 
and  the  lycanthropy  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  of  whose 
vanity  Dr.  Hanslick  once  reminded  Wagner,  warn- 
ing him  against  the  fate  of  the  Babylonian  king 
who  became  like  unto  an  ox,  "ate  grass  and  was 


22  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

composed  by  Verdi";  think  reverently  of  Alcestis 
and  the  Christian  doctrine  of  atonement ! 

The  writers  of  the  first  Biblical  operas  sought 
their  subjects  as  far  back  in  history,  or  legend,  as 
the  written  page  permitted.  Theile  composed  an 
"Adam  and  Eve"  in  1678;  but  our  first  parents 
never  became  popular  on  the  serious  stage.  Per- 
haps the  fearful  soul  of  the  theatrical  costumer  was 
frightened  and  perplexed  by  the  problem  which  the 
subject  put  up  to  him.  Haydn  introduced  them 
into  his  oratorio  "The  Creation,"  but,  as  the  custom 
goes  now,  the  third  part  of  the  work,  in  which  they 
appear,  is  frequently,  if  not  generally  omitted  in 
performance.  Adam,  to  judge  by  the  record  in 
Holy  Writ,  made  an  uneventful  end :  "And  all  the 
days  that  Adam  lived  were  nine  hundred  and  thirty 
years:  and  he  died";  but  this  did  not  prevent 
Lesueur  from  writing  an  opera  on  his  death  ten 
years  after  Haydn's  oratorio  had  its  first  perform- 
ance. He  called  it  "La  Mort  d'Adam  et  son  Apo- 
th6ose,"  and  it  involved  him  in  a  disastrous  quarrel 
with  the  directors  of  the  Conservatoire  and  the 
Academic.  Pursuing  the  search  chronologically, 
the  librettists  next  came  upon  Cain  and  Abel, 
who  offered  a  more  fruitful  subject  for  dramatic 
and  musical  invention.  We  know  very  little  about 
the  sacred  operas  whieh  shared  the  list  with  works 
based  on  classical  fables  and  Roman  history  in  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries;  inasmuch, 
however,  as  they  were  an  outgrowth  of  the  pious 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    23 

plays  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  designed  for  edifying 
consumption  in  Lent,  it  is  likely  that  they  adhered 
in  their  plots  pretty  close  to  the  Biblical  accounts. 
I  doubt  if  the  sentimental  element  which  was  in 
vogue  when  Rossini  wrote  "Mos£  in  Egitto"  played 
much  of  a  r61e  in  such  an  opera  as  Johann  PhiHpp 
Fortsch's  "Kain  und  Abel;  oder  der  verzweifelnde 
Brudermorder,"  which  was  performed  in  Hamburg 
in  1689,  or  even  in  "Abel's  Tod,"  which  came  along 
in  1771.  The  first  fratricidal  murder  seems  to 
have  had  an  early  and  an  enduring  fascination  for 
dramatic  poets  and  composers.  Metastasio's  "La 
Morte  d'Abele,"  set  by  both  Caldara  and  Leo 
in  1732,  remained  a  stalking-horse  for  composers 
down  to  Morlacchi  in  1820.  One  of  the  latest  of 
Biblical  operas  is  the  "Kain"  of  Heinrich  Bulthaupt 
and  Eugen  d' Albert.  This  opera  and  a  later  lyric 
drama  by  the  same  composer,  "Tote  Augen"  (under 
which  title  a  casual  reader  would  never  suspect  that 
a  Biblical  subject  was  lurking),  call  for  a  little  atten- 
tion because  of  their  indication  of  a  possible  drift 
which  future  dramatists  may  follow  in  treating 
sacred  story. 

Wicked  envy  and  jealousy  were  not  sufficient 
motives  in  the  eyes  of  Bulthaupt  and  d'Albert  for 
the  first  fratricide;  there  must  be  an  infusion  of 
psychology  and  modern  philosophy.  Abel  is  an 
optimist,  an  idealist,  a  contented  dreamer,  joying 
in  the  loveliness  of  life  and  nature ;  Cain,  a  pessimist, 
a  morose  brooder,  for  whom  life  contained  no  beau- 


24  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

tiful  illusions.  He  gets  up  from  his  couch  in  the 
night  to  question  the  right  of  God  to  create  man  for 
suffering.  He  is  answered  by  Lucifer,  who  pro- 
claims himself  the  benefactor  of  the  family  in  having 
rescued  them  from  the  slothful  existence  of  Eden 
and  given  them  a  Redeemer.  The  devil  discourses 
on  the  delightful  ministrations  of  that  Redeemer, 
whose  name  is  Death.  In  the  morning  Abel  arises 
and  as  he  offers  his  sacrifice  he  hymns  the  sacred 
mystery  of  life  and  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  the  new- 
found gospel  of  his  brother.  An  inspiring  thought 
comes  to  Cain;  by  killing  Abel  and  destroying  him- 
self he  will  save  future  generations  from  the  suffer- 
ings to  which  they  are  doomed.  With  this  be- 
nevolent purpose  in  mind  he  commits  the  murder. 
The  blow  has  scarcely  been  struck  before  a  mul- 
titude of  spirit-voices  call  his  name  and  God 
thunders  the  question:  "Where  is  Abel,  thy 
brother?"  Adam  comes  from  his  cave  and  looka 
upon  the  scene  with  horror.  Now  Cain  realizes 
that  his  work  is  less  than  half  done :  he  is  himself 
still  alive  and  so  is  his  son  Enoch.  He  rushes  for- 
ward to  kill  his  child,  but  the  mother  throws  herself 
between,  and  Cain  discovers  that  he  is  not  strong- 
willed  enough  to  carry  out  his  design.  God's  curse 
condemns  him  to  eternal  unrest,  and  while  the  ele- 
ments rage  around  him  Cain  goes  forth  into  the 
mountain  wilderness. 

Herr  Bulthaupt  did  not  permit  chronology  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  action,  but  it  can  at  least 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    25 

be  said  for  him  that  he  did  not  profane  the  Book  as 
Herr  Ewers,  Mr.  d'Albert's  latest  collaborator,  did 
when  he  turned  a  story  of  Christ's  miraculous  heal- 
ing of  a  blind  woman  into  a  sensational  melodrama. 
In  the  precious  opera,  "Tote  Augen"  ("Dead 
Eyes'7);  brought  out  in  March,  1916,  in  Dresden, 
Myrocle,  the  blind  woman,  is  the  wife  of  Arcesius, 
a  Roman  ambassador  in  Jerusalem.  Never  having 
seen  him,  Myrocle  believes  her  husband  to  be  a 
paragon  of  beauty,  but  he  is,  in  fact,  hideous  of 
features,  crook-backed,  and  lame ;  deformed  in 
mind  and  heart,  too,  for  he  has  concealed  the  truth 
from  her.  Christ  is  entering  Jerusalem,  and  Mary 
of  Magdala  leads  Myrocle  to  him,  having  heard  of 
the  miracles  which  he  performs,  and  he  opens  the 
woman's  eyes  at  the  moment  that  the  multitude 
is  shouting  its  hosannahs.  The  first  man  who  fills 
the  vision  of  Myrocle  is  Galba,  handsome,  noble, 
chivalrous,  who  had  renounced  the  love  he  bore 
her  because  she  was  the  wife  of  his  friend.  In 
Galba  the  woman  believes  she  sees  the  husband 
whom  in  her  fond  imagination  she  had  fitted  out 
with  the  charms  of  mind  and  person  which  his 
friend  possesses.  She  throws  herself  into  his  arms, 
and  he  does  not  repel  her  mistaken  embraces ;  but 
the  misshapen  villain  throws  himself  upon  the  pair 
and  strangles  his  friend  to  death.  A  slave  en- 
lightens the  mystified  woman ;  the  murderer,  not 
the  dead  hero  at  his  feet,  is  her  husband.  Singularly 
enough,  she  does  not  turn  from  him  with  hatred 


26  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

and  loathing,  but  looks  upon  him  with  a  great  pity. 
Then  she  turns  her  eyes  upon  the  sun,  which  Christ 
had  said  should  not  set  until  she  had  cursed  him, 
and  gazes  into  its  searing  glow  until  her  sight  is 
again  dead.  Moral:  it  is  sinful  to  love  the  loveliness 
of  outward  things ;  from  the  soul  must  come  sal- 
vation. As  if  she  had  never  learned  the  truth,  she 
returns  to  her  wifely  love  for  Arcesius.  The  story 
is  as  false  to  nature  as  it  is  sacrilegious ;  its  trumpery 
theatricalism  is  as  great  a  hindrance  to  a  possible 
return  of  Biblical  opera  as  the  disgusting  celebra- 
tion of  necrophilism  in  Richard  Strauss's  "Salome." 
In  our  historical  excursion  we  are  still  among  the 
patriarchs,  and  the  whole  earth  is  of  one  language 
and  of  one  speech.  Noah,  the  ark,  and  the  deluge 
seem  now  too  prodigious  to  be  essayed  by  opera 
makers,  but,  apparently,  they  did  not  awe  the 
Englishman  Edward  Eccleston  (or  Eggleston),  who 
is  said  to  have  produced  an  opera,  "Noah's  Flood, 
or  the  Destruction  of  the  World,"  in  London  in 
1679,  nor  Seyfried,  whose  "Libera  me"  was  sung  at 
Beethoven's  funeral,  and  who,  besides  Biblical 
operas  entitled  "Saul,"  "Abraham,"  "The  Macca- 
bees," and  "The  Israelites  in  the  Desert,"  brought 
out  a  "Noah"  in  Vienna  in  1818.  Halevy  left  an 
unfinished  opera,  "Noe,"  which  Bizet,  who  was  his 
son-in-law,  completed.  Of  oratorios  dealing  with  the 
deluge  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  further  than  to  ex- 
press my  admiration  for  the  manner  in  which  Saint- 
Saens  opened  the  musical  floodgates  in  "Le  Deluge." 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    27 

On  the  plain  in  the  Land  of  Shinar  the  families 
of  the  sons  of  Noah  builded  them  a  city  and  a  tower 
whose  top  they  arrogantly  hoped  might  reach  unto 
heaven.  But  the  tower  fell,  the  tongues  of  the 
people  were  confounded,  and  the  people  were  scat- 
tered abroad  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Rubinstein 
attempted  to  give  dramatic  representation  to  the 
tremendous  incident,  and  to  his  effort  and  vain 
dream  I  shall  revert  in  the  next  chapter  of  this 
book.  Now  I  must  on  with  the  history  of  the 
patriarchs.  The  story  of  Abraham  and  his  at- 
tempted offering  of  Isaac  has  been  much  used  as 
oratorio  material,  and  Joseph  Eisner,  Chopin's 
teacher,  brought  out  a  Polish  opera,  "Ofiara 
Abrama,"  at  Warsaw  in  1827. 

A  significant  milestone  in  the  history  of  the 
Hebrews  as  well  as  Biblical  operas  has  now  been 
reached.  The  sojourn  of  the  Jews  in  Egypt  and 
their  final  departure  under  the  guidance  of  Moses 
have  already  occupied  considerable  attention  in 
this  study.  They  provided  material  for  the  two 
operas  which  seem  to  me  the  noblest  of  their  kind 
• — MeTmTs  "Joseph"  and  Rossini's  "Mose  in 
Egitto."  M£hul's  opera,  more  than  a  decade  older 
than  Rossini's,  still  holds  a  place  on  the  stages  of 
France  and  Germany,  and  this  despite  the  fact 
that  it  foregoes  two  factors  which  are  popularly  sup- 
posed to  be  essential  to  operatic  success  —  a  love 
episode  and  woman's  presence  and  participation  in 
the  action.  The  opera,  which  is  in  three  acts,  waa 


38  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

brought  forward  at  the  Theatre  Feydeau  in  Paris 
on  February  17,  1807.  It  owed  its  origin  to  a 
Biblical  tragedy  entitled  "Omasis,"  by  Baour  Lor- 
mian.  The  subject  —  the  sale  of  Joseph  by  his 
brothers  into  Egyptian  slavery,  his  rise  to  power, 
his  forgiveness  of  the  wrong  attempted  against 
him,  and  his  provision  of  a  home  for  the  people  of 
Israel  in  the  land  of  Goshen  —  had  long  been  popular 
with  composers  of  oratorios.  The  list  of  these 
works  begins  with  Caldara's  "Giuseppe"  in  1722. 
Metastasio's  "Giuseppe  riconosciuto  "  was  set  by 
half  a  dozen  composers  between  1733  and  1788. 
Handel  wrote  his  English  oratorio  in  1743 ;  G.  A. 
Macfarren's  was  performed  at  the  Leeds  festival  of 
1877.  Lormian  thought  it  necessary  to  introduce 
a  love  episode  into  his  tragedy,  but  Alexander 
Duval,  who  wrote  the  book  for  Mehul's  opera, 
was  of  the  opinion  that  the  diversion  only  enfeebled 
the  beautiful  if  austere  picture  of  patriarchal  do- 
mestic life  delineated  in  the  Bible.  He  therefore 
adhered  to  tradition  and  created  a  series  of  scenes 
full  of  beauty,  dignity,  and  pathos,  simple  and 
strong  in  spite  of  the  bombast  prevalent  in  the 
literary  style  of  the  period.  MeliuTs  music  is 
marked  by  grandeur,  simplicity,  lofty  sentiment, 
and  consistent  severity  of  manner.  The  composer's 
predilection  for  ecclesiastical  music,  created,  no 
doubt,  by  the  blind  organist  who  taught  him  in  his 
childhood  and  nourished  by  his  studies  and  labors 
at  the  monastery  under  the  gifted  Hauser,  found 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    29 

opportunity  for  expression  in  the  religious  senti- 
ments of  the  drama,  and  his  knowledge  of  plain 
chant  is  exhibited  in  the  score  "the  simplicity, 
grandeur,  and  dramatic  truth  of  which  will  always 
command  the  admiration  of  impartial  musicians/* 
remarks  Gustave  Choquet.  The  enthusiasm  of  M. 
Tiersot  goes  further  still,  for  he  says  that  the  music 
of  "Joseph"  is  more  conspicuous  for  the  qualities 
of  dignity  and  sonority  than  that  of  Handel's 
oratorio.  The  German  Hanslick,  to  whom  the  ab- 
sence from  the  action  of  the  "salt  of  the  earth, 
women"  seemed  disastrous,  nevertheless  does  not 
hesitate  to  institute  a  comparison  between  "Joseph" 
and  one  of  Mozart's  latest  operas.  "In  its  mild, 
passionless  benevolence  the  entire  r61e  of  Joseph  in 
Mehul's  opera,"  he  says,  "reminds  one  strikingly 
of  Mozart's  'Titus/  and  not  to  the  advantage  of 
the  latter.  The  opera  'Titus'  is  the  work  of  an 
incomparably  greater  genius,  but  it  belongs  to  a 
partly  untruthful,  wholly  modish,  tendency  (that 
of  the  old  opera  seria),  while  the  genre  of  'Joseph* 
is  thoroughly  noble,  true,  and  eminently  dramatic. 
'Joseph'  has  outlived  'Titus.'"1  Carl  Maria  von 
Weber  admired  MeliuTs  opera  greatly,  and  within 
recent  years  Felix  Weingartner  has  edited  a  German 
edition  for  which  he  composed  recitatives  to  take 
the  place  of  the  spoken  dialogue  of  the  original  book. 
There  is  no  story  of  passion  in  "Joseph."  The 
love  portrayed  there  is  domestic  and  filial;  its 

»  "Die  Moderne  Opera,"  p.  92. 


30  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

objects  are  the  hero's  father,  brothers,  and  country 
—  "Champs  eternels,  Hebron,  douce  valise."  It 
was  not  until  our  own  day  that  an  author  with  a 
perverted  sense  which  had  already  found  gratification 
in  the  stench  of  mental,  moral,  and  physical  decay 
exhaled  by  "Salome"  and  "Elektra"  nosed  the 
piquant,  pungent  odor  of  the  episode  of  Potiphar's 
wife  and  blew  it  into  the  theatre.  Joseph's  temptress 
did  not  tempt  even  the  prurient  taste  which  gave 
us  the  Parisian  operatic  versions  of  the  stories  of 
Phryne,  Thais  and  Messalina.  Richard  Strauss's 
"Josephslegende"  stands  alone  in  musical  litera- 
ture. There  is,  indeed,  only  one  reference  in  the 
records  of  oratorio  or  opera  to  the  woman  whose 
grovelling  carnality  is  made  the  foil  of  Joseph's 
virtue  in  the  story  as  told  in  the  Book.  That  ref- 
erence is  found  in  a  singular  trilogy,  which  was 
obviously  written  more  to  disclose  the  possibilities 
of  counterpoint  than  to  set  forth  the  story  —  even 
if  it  does  that,  which  I  cannot  say ;  the  suggestion 
comes  only  from  a  title.  In  August,  1852,  Pietro 
Raimondi  produced  an  oratorio  in  three  parts  en- 
titled, respectively,  "Putifar,"  "Giuseppe  giusto" 
and  "Giacobbe,"  at  the  Teatro  Argentina,  in  Rome. 
The  music  of  the  three  works  was  so  written  that 
after  each  had  been  performed  separately,  with  in- 
dividual principal  singers,  choristers,  and  orchestras, 
they  were  united  in  a  simultaneous  performance. 
The  success  of  the  stupendous  experiment  in  contra- 
puntal writing  was  so  great  that  the  composer  fell 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    31 

in  a  faint  amidst  the  applause  of  the  audience  and 
died  less  than  three  months  afterward. 

In  the  course  of  this  study  I  have  mentioned 
nearly  all  of  the  Biblical  characters  who  have  been 
turned  into  operatic  heroes.  Nebuchadnezzar  ap- 
peared on  the  stage  at  Hamburg  in  an  opera  of 
Keiser's  in  1704;  Ariosti  put  him  through  his 
bovine  strides  in  Vienna  in  1706.  He  was  put  into 
a  ballet  by  a  Portuguese  composer  and  made  the 
butt  of  a  French  ope"ra  bouffe  writer,  J.  J.  Debille- 
ment,  in  1871.  He  recurs  to  my  mind  now  in  con- 
nection with  a  witty  fling  at  "Nabucco"  made  by  a 
French  rhymester  when  Verdi's  opera  was  produced 
at  Paris  in  1845.  The  noisy  brass  in  the  orches- 
tration offended  the  ears  of  a  critic,  and  he  wrote : 

Vraiment  1'affiche  est  dans  son  tort ; 

En  faux,  ou  devrait  la  poursuivre. 
Pourquoi  nous  annoncer  Nabuchodonos  —  or 

Quand  c'est  Nabuchodonos  —  cuivre? 

Judas  Maccabaeus  is  one  of  the  few  heroes  of 
ancient  Israel  who  have  survived  in  opera,  Rubin- 
stein's "Makkabaer"  still  having  a  hold,  though 
not  a  strong  one,  on  the  German  stage.  The 
libretto  is  an  adaptation  by  Mosenthal  (author 
also  of  Goldmark's  "Queen  of  Sheba")  of  a  drama 
by  Otto  Ludwig.  In  the  drama  as  well  as  some 
of  its  predecessors  some  liberties  have  been  taken 
with  the  story  as  told  in  Maccabees  II,  chapter  7. 
The  tale  of  the  Israelitish  champion  of  freedom  and 


32       A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

his  brothers  Jonathan  and  Simon,  who  lost  their 
lives  in  the  struggle  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
kings  of  Syria,  is  intensely  dramatic.  For  stage 
purposes  the  dramatists  have  associated  the  massacre 
of  a  mother  and  her  seven  sons  and  the  martyrdom 
of  the  aged  Eleazar,  who  caused  the  uprising  of  the 
Jews,  with  the  family  history  of  Judas  himself. 
J.  W.  Franck  produced  "Die  Maccabaische  Mutter" 
in  Hamburg  in  1679,  Ariosti  composed  "La  Madre 
dei  Maccabei"  in  1704,  Ignaz  von  Seyfried  brought 
out  "Die  Makkabaer,  oder  Salmonaa"  in  1818, 
and  Rubinstein  his  opera  in  Berlin  on  April  17,  1875. 
The  romantic  career  of  Jephtha,  a  natural  son, 
banished  from  home,  chief  of  a  band  of  roving 
marauders,  mighty  captain  and  ninth  judge  of 
Israel,  might  have  fitted  out  many  an  opera  text, 
irrespective  of  the  pathetic  story  of  the  sacrifice 
of  his  daughter  in  obedience  to  a  vow,  though  this 
episode  springs  first  to  mind  when  his  name  is  men- 
tioned, and  has  been  the  special  subject  of  the 
Jephtha  operas.  An  Italian  composer  named  Pol- 
larolo  wrote  a  "Jefte"  for  Vienna  in  1692;  other 
operas  dealing  with  the  history  are  Rolle's  "Mehala, 
die  Tochter  Jephthas"  (1784),  Meyerbeer's  "Jeph- 
tha's  Tochter"  (Munich,  1813),  Generali,  "II  voto 
di  Jefte"  (1827),  Sanpieri,  "La  Figlia  di  Jefte" 
(1872).  Luis  Cepeda  produced  a  Spanish  opera  in 
Madrid  in  1845,  and  a  French  opera,  in  five  acts 
and  a  prologue,  by  Monteclaire,  was  prohibited,  after 
one  performance,  by  Cardinal  de  Noailles  in  1832. 


BIBLE  STORIES  IN  OPERA  AND  ORATORIO    33 

Judith,  the  widow  of  Manasseh,  who  delivered 
her  native  city  of  Bethulia  from  the  Assyrian 
Holofernes,  lulling  him  to  sleep  with  her  charms 
and  then  striking  off  his  drunken  head  with  a 
falchion,  though  an  Apocryphal  personage,  is  the 
most  popular  of  Israelitish  heroines.  The  record 
shows  the  operas  "Judith  und  Holofernes"  by 
Leopold  Kotzeluch  (1799),  "Giuditta"  by  S.  Levi 
(1844),  Achille  Peri  (1860),  Righi  (1871),  and 
Sarri  (1875).  Naumann  wrote  a  "Judith"  in 
1858,  Doppler  another  in  1870,  and  Alexander 
Seroff  a  Russian  opera  under  the  same  title  in  1863. 
Martin  Roder,  who  used  to  live  in  Boston,  com- 
posed a  "Judith,"  but  it  was  never  performed, 
while  George  W.  Chadwick's  "Judith,"  half  can- 
tata, half  opera,  which  might  easily  be  fitted  for 
the  stage,  has  had  to  rest  content  with  a  concert 
performance  at  a  Worcester  (Mass.)  festival. 

The  memory  of  Esther,  the  queen  of  Ahasuerus, 
who  saved  her  people  from  massacre,  is  preserved 
and  her  deed  celebrated  by  the  Jews  in  their  gracious 
festival  of  Purim.  A  gorgeous  figure  for  the  stage, 
she  has  been  relegated  to  the  oratorio  platform  since 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Racine's  tragedy 
"Athalie"  has  called  out  music  from  Abbe"  Vogler, 
Gossec,  Bo'ieldieu,  Mendelssohn,  and  others,  and  a 
few  oratorios,  one  by  Handel,  have  been  based  on 
the  story  of  the  woman  through  whom  idolatry 
was  introduced  into  Judah ;  but  I  have  no  record  of 
any  Athalia  opera. 


CHAPTER  III 

BUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER" 

I  HAVE  a  strong  belief  in  the  essential  excellence 
of  Biblical  subjects  for  the  purposes  of  the  lyric 
drama  —  at  least  from  an  historical  point  of  view. 
I  can  see  no  reason  against  but  many  reasons  in 
favor  of  a  return  to  the  stage  of  the  patriarchal 
and  heroic  figures  of  the  people  who  are  a  more 
potent  power  in  the  world  to-day,  despite  their 
diBpersal  and  loss  of  national  unity,  than  they  were 
in  the  days  of  their  political  grandeur  and  glory. 
Throughout  the  greater  part  of  his  creative  career 
Anton  Rubinstein  was  the  champion  of  a  similar 
idea.  Of  the  twenty  works  which  he  wrote  for  the 
theatre,  including  ballets,  six  were  on  Biblical 
subjects,  and  to  promote  a  propaganda  which 
began  with  the  composition  of  "Der  Thurmbau 
zu  Babel,"  in  1870,  he  not  only  entered  the  literary 
field,  but  made  personal  appeal  for  practical  assist- 
ance in  both  the  Old  World  and  the  New.  His, 
however,  was  a  religious  point  of  view,  not  the  his- 
torical or  political.  It  is  very  likely  that  a  racial 
predilection  had  much  to  do  with  his  attitude  on 
the  subject,  but  in  his  effort  to  bring  religion  into 

34 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPEE"  35 

the  service  of  the  lyric  stage  he  was  no  more  Jew 
than  Christian :  the  stories  to  which  he  applied  his 
greatest  energies  were  those  of  Moses  and  Christ. 

Much  against  my  inclination  (for  Rubinstein 
came  into  my  intellectual  life  under  circumstances 
and  conditions  which  made  him  the  strongest  per- 
sonal influence  in  music  that  I  have  ever  felt)  I 
have  been  compelled  to  believe  that  there  were 
other  reasons  besides  those  which  he  gave  for  his 
championship  of  Biblical  opera.  Smaller  men  than 
he,  since  Wagner's  death,  have  written  trilogies 
and  dreamed  of  theatres  and  festivals  devoted  to 
performances  of  then:  works.  Little  wonder  if 
Rubinstein  believed  that  he  had  created,  or  could 
create,  a  kind  of  art-work  which  should  take  place 
by  the  side  of  "  Der  Ring  des  Nibelungen,"  and  have 
its  special  home  like  Bayreuth;  and  it  may  have 
been  a  belief  that  his  project  would  excite  the  sym- 
pathetic zeal  of  the  devout  Jew  and  pious  Christian 
alike,  as  much  as  his  lack  of  the  capacity  for  self- 
criticism,  which  led  him  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp 
along  the  path  which  led  into  the  bogs  of  failure  and 
disappointment. 

While  I  was  engaged  in  writing  the  programme 
book  for  the  music  festival  given  in  New  York  in 
1881,  at  which  "The  Tower  of  Babel"  was  per- 
formed in  a  truly  magnificent  manner,  Dr.  Leopold 
Damrosch,  the  conductor  of  the  festival,  told  me 
that  Rubinstein  had  told  him  that  the  impulse  to 
use  Biblical  subjects  in  lyrical  dramas  had  come  to 


36  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

him  while  witnessing  a  ballet  based  on  a  Bible  story 
many  years  before  in  Paris.  He  said  that  he  had 
seldom  been  moved  so  profoundly  by  any  spec- 
tacle as  by  this  ballet,  and  it  suggested  to  him  the 
propriety  of  treating  sacred  subjects  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  them,  yet  different  from  the  conven- 
tional oratorio.  The  explanation  has  not  gotten 
into  the  books,  but  is  not  inconsistent  with  the 
genesis  of  his  Biblical  operas,  as  related  by  Rubin- 
stein in  his  essay  on  the  subject  printed  by  Joseph 
Lewinsky  in  his  book  "Vor  den  Coulissen,"  pub- 
lished in  1882  after  at  least  three  of  the  operas  had 
been  written.  The  composer's  defence  of  his  works 
and  his  story  of  the  effort  which  he  made  to  bring 
about  a  realization  of  his  ideals  deserve  to  be  re- 
hearsed in  justice  to  his  character  as  man  and 
artist,  as  well  as  in  the  interest  of  the  works  them- 
selves and  the  subjects,  which,  I  believe,  will  in  the 
near  future  occupy  the  minds  of  composers  again. 
"The  oratorio,"  said  Rubinstein,  "is  an  art-form 
which  I  have  always  been  disposed  to  protest 
against.  The  best-known  masterpieces  of  this 
form  have,  not  during  the  study  of  them  but  when 
hearing  them  performed,  always  left  me  cold;  in- 
deed, often  positively  pained  me.  The  stiffness 
of  the  musical  and  still  more  of  the  poetical  form 
always  seemed  to  me  absolutely  incongruous  with 
the  high  dramatic  feeling  of  the  subject.  To  see 
and  hear  gentlemen  in  dress  coats,  white  cravats, 
yellow  gloves,  holding  music  books  before  them, 


37 

or  ladies  in  modern,  often  extravagant,  toilets  sing- 
ing the  parts  of  the  grand,  imposing  figures  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments  has  always  disturbed 
me  to  such  a  degree  that  I  could  never  attain  to 
pure  enjoyment.  Involuntarily  I  felt  and  thought 
how  much  grander,  more  impressive,  vivid,  and 
true  would  be  all  that  I  had  experienced  in  the 
concert-room  if  represented  on  the  stage  with  cos- 
tumes, decorations,  and  full  action." 

The  contention,  said  Rubinstein  in  effect,  that 
Biblical  subjects  are  ill  adapted  to  the  stage  be- 
cause of  their  sacred  character  is  a  testimony  of 
poverty  for  the  theatre,  which  should  be  an  agency 
in  the  service  of  the  highest  purposes  of  culture. 
The  people  have  always  wanted  to  see  stage  repre- 
sentations of  Bible  incidents ;  witness  the  mystery 
plays  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Passion  Play  at 
Oberammergau  to-day.  But  yielding  to  a  preva- 
lent feeling  that  such  representations  are  a  prof- 
anation of  sacred  history,  he  had  conceived  an 
appropriate  type  of  art-work  which  was  to  be  pro- 
duced in  theatres  to  be  specially  built  for  the  purpose 
and  by  companies  of  artists  to  be  specially  trained 
to  that  end.  This  art-work  was  to  be  called  Sacred 
Opera  (geistliche  Oper),  to  distinguish  it  from  secular 
opera,  but  its  purpose  was  to  be  purely  artistic  and 
wholly  separate  from  the  interests  of  the  Church. 
He  developed  ways  and  means  for  raising  the  neces- 
sary funds,  enlisting  artists,  overcoming  the  diffi- 
culties presented  by  the  mise  en  scene  and  the 


38  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

polyphonic  character  of  the  choral  music,  and  set 
forth  his  aim  in  respect  of  the  subject-matter  of  the 
dramas  to  be  a  representation  in  chronological 
order  of  the  chief  incidents  described  in  the  Old 
and  New  Testaments.  He  would  be  willing  to 
include  in  his  scheme  Biblical  operas  already  exist- 
ing, if  they  were  not  all,  with  the  exception  of 
M&iuTs  "Joseph,"  made  unfit  by  their  treatment 
of  sacred  matters,  especially  by  their  inclusion  of 
love  episodes  which  brought  them  into  the  domain 
of  secular  opera. 

For  years,  while  on  his  concert  tours  in  various 
countries,  Rubinstein  labored  to  put  his  plan  into 
operation.  Wherever  he  found  a  public  accus- 
tomed to  oratorio  performances  he  inquired  into 
the  possibility  of  establishing  his  sacred  theatre 
there.  He  laid  the  project  before  the  Grand  Duke 
of  Weimar,  who  told  him  that  it  was  feasible  only 
in  large  cities.  The  advice  sent  him  to  Berlin, 
where  he  opened  his  mind  to  the  Minister  of  Edu- 
cation, von  Muhler.  The  official  had  his  doubts; 
sacred  operas  might  do  for  Old  Testament  stories, 
but  not  for  New ;  moreover,  such  a  theatre  should 
be  a  private,  not  a  governmental,  undertaking. 
He  sought  the  opinion  of  Stanley,  Dean  of  West- 
minster Abbey,  who  said  that  he  could  only  con- 
ceive a  realization  of  the  idea  in  the  oldtime  popular 
manner,  upon  a  rude  stage  at  a  country  fair. 

For  a  space  it  looked  as  if  the  leaders  of  the 
Jewish  congregations  in  Paris  would  provide  funds 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER"  39 

for  the  enterprise  so  far  as  it  concerned  itself  with 
subjects  taken  from  the  Old  Dispensation;  but 
at  the  last  they  backed  out,  fearing  to  take  the 
initiative  in  a  matter  likely  to  cause  popular  clamor. 
"I  even  thought  of  America,"  says  Rubinstein, 
"of  the  daring  transatlantic  impresarios,  with  their 
lust  of  enterprise,  who  might  be  inclined  to  specu- 
late on  a  gigantic  scale  with  my  idea.  I  had  indeed 
almost  succeeded,  but  the  lack  of  artists  brought 
it  to  pass  that  the  plans,  already  in  a  considerable 
degree  of  forwardness,  had  to  be  abandoned.  I 
considered  the  possibility  of  forming  an  association 
of  composers  and  performing  artists  to  work  to- 
gether to  carry  on  the  enterprise  materially,  in- 
tellectually, and  administratively;  but  the  great 
difficulty  of  enlisting  any  considerable  number  of 
artists  for  the  furtherance  of  a  new  idea  in  art 
frightened  me  back  from  this  purpose  also."  In 
these  schemes  there  are  evidences  of  Rubinstein's 
willingness  to  follow  examples  set  by  Handel  as 
well  as  Wagner.  The  former  composed  "Judas 
Maccabaeus"  and  "Alexander  Bams"  to  please  the 
Jews  who  had  come  to  his  help  when  he  made 
financial  shipwreck  with  his  opera;  the  latter 
created  the  Richard  Wagner  Verein  to  put  the 
Bayreuth  enterprise  on  its  feet. 

Of  the  six  sacred  operas  composed  by  Rubin- 
stein three  may  be  said  to  be  practicable  for  stage 
representation.  They  are  "Die  Makkabaer,"  "Su- 
lamith"  (based  on  Solomon's  Song  of  Songs)  and 


40  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

"Christus."  The  first  has  had  many  performances 
in  Germany;  the  second  had  a  few  performances 
in  Hamburg  in  1883 ;  the  last,  first  performed  as  an 
oratorio  in  Berlin  in  1885,  was  staged  in  Bremen  in 
1895.  It  has  had,  I  believe,  about  fourteen  repre- 
sentations in  all.  As  for  the  other  three  works, 
"Der  Thurmbau  zu  Babel"  (first  performance 
in  Konigsberg  in  1870),  "Das  verlorene  Paradies" 
(Diisseldorf,  1875),  and  "Moses"  (still  awaiting 
theatrical  representation,  I  believe),  it  may  be  said 
of  them  that  they  are  hybrid  creations  which  com- 
bine the  oratorio  and  opera  styles  by  utilizing  the 
powers  of  the  oldtime  oratorio  chorus  and  the 
modern  orchestra,  with  the  descriptive  capacity  of 
both  raised  to  the  highest  power,  to  illustrate  an 
action  which  is  beyond  the  capabilities  of  the  ordi- 
nary stage  machinery.  In  the  character  of  the  forms 
employed  in  the  works  there  is  no  startling  inno- 
vation; we  meet  the  same  alternation  of  chorus, 
recitative,  aria,  and  ensemble  that  we  have  known 
since  the  oratorio  style  was  perfected.  A  change, 
however,  has  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  expres- 
sion and  the  forms  have  all  relaxed  some  of  their 
rigidity.  In  the  oratorios  of  Handel  and  Haydn 
there  are  instances  not  a  few  of  musical  delineation 
in  the  instrumental  as  well  as  the  vocal  parts ;  but 
nothing  in  them  can  be  thought  of,  so  far  at  least 
as  the  ambition  of  the  design  extends,  as  a  companion 
piece  to  the  scene  in  the  opera  which  pictures  the 
destruction  of  the  tower  of  Babel.  This  is  as  far 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER"  41 

beyond  the  horizon  of  the  fancy  of  the  old  masters 
as  it  is  beyond  the  instrumental  forces  which  they 
controlled. 

"Paradise  Lost/'  the  text  paraphrased  from 
portions  of  Milton's  epic,  is  an  oratorio  pure  and 
simple.  It  deals  with  the  creation  of  the  world 
according  to  the  Mosaic  (or  as  Huxley  would  have 
said,  Miltonic)  theory  and  the  medium  of  expres- 
sion is  an  alternation  of  recitatives  and  choruses, 
the  latter  having  some  dramatic  life  and  a  char- 
acteristic accompaniment.  It  is  wholly  contem- 
plative; there  is  nothing  like  action  in  it.  "The 
Tower  of  Babel"  has  action  in  the  restricted  sense 
in  which  it  enters  into  Mendelssohn's  oratorios, 
and  scenic  effects  which  would  tax  the  utmost 
powers  of  the  modern  stage-machinist  who  might 
attempt  to  carry  them  out.  A  mimic  tower  of 
Babel  is  more  preposterous  than  a  mimic  temple 
of  Dagon ;  yet,  unless  Rubinstein's  stage  directions 
are  to  be  taken  in  a  Pickwickian  sense,  we  ought 
to  listen  to  this  music  while  looking  at  a  stage-setting 
more  colossal  than  any  ever  contemplated  by  dram- 
atist before.  We  should  see  a  wide  stretch  of  the 
plain  of  Shinar;  in  the  foreground  a  tower  so  tall 
as  to  give  color  of  plausibility  to  a  speech  which 
prates  of  an  early  piercing  of  heaven  and  so  large 
as  to  provide  room  for  a  sleeping  multitude  on  its 
scaffoldings.  Brick  kilns,  derricks,  and  all  the  ap- 
paratus and  machinery  of  building  should  be  on  all 
hands,  and  from  the  summit  of  a  mound  should 


42  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

grow  a  giant  tree,  against  whose  trunk  should 
hang  a  brazen  shield  to  be  used  as  a  signal  gong. 
We  should  see  in  the  progress  of  the  opera  the  bus- 
tling activity  of  the  workmen,  the  roaring  flames 
and  rolling  smoke  of  the  brick  kilns,  and  witness 
the  miraculous  spectacle  of  a  man  thrown  into  the 
fire  and  walking  thence  unharmed.  We  should 
see  (in  dissolving  views)  the  dispersion  of  the  races 
and  behold  the  unfolding  of  a  rainbow  in  the  sky. 
And,  finally,  we  should  get  a  glimpse  of  an  open 
heaven  and  the  Almighty  on  His  throne,  and  a 
yawning  hell,  with  Satan  and  his  angels  exercising 
their  dread  dominion.  Can  such  scenes  be  mim- 
icked successfully  enough  to  preserve  a  serious 
frame  of  mind  in  the  observer?  Hardly.  Yet  the 
music  seems  obviously  to  have  been  written  in  the 
expectation  that  sight  shall  aid  hearing  to  quicken 
the  fancy  and  emotion  and  excite  the  faculties  to 
an  appreciation  of  the  work. 

"The  Tower  of  Babel"  has  been  performed  upon 
the  stage ;  how  I  cannot  even  guess.  Knowing, 
probably,  that  the  work  would  be  given  in  concert 
form  oftener  than  in  dramatic,  Rubinstein  tries  to 
stimulate  the  fancy  of  those  who  must  be  only 
listeners  by  profuse  stage  directions  which  are 
printed  in  the  score  as  well  as  the  book  of  words. 
"Moses"  is  in  the  same  case.  By  the  time  that 
Rubinstein  had  completed  it  he  evidently  realized 
that  its  hybrid  character  as  well  as  its  stupendous 
scope  would  stand  in  the  way  of  performances  of 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER"  4$ 

any  kind.  Before  even  a  portion  of  its  music 
had  been  heard  in  public,  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  a 
friend:  "It  is  too  theatrical  for  the  concert-room 
and  too  much  like  an  oratorio  for  the  theatre.  It 
is,  in  fact,  the  perfect  type  of  the  sacred  opera  that 
I  have  dreamed  of  for  years.  What  will  come  of 
it  I  do  not  know ;  I  do  not  think  it  can  be  performed 
entire.  As  it  contains  eight  distinct  parts,  one  or 
two  may  from  time  to  time  be  given  either  in  a 
concert  or  on  the  stage." 

America  was  the  first  country  to  act  on  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  fragmentary  performance.  The  first 
scene  was  brought  forward  in  New  York  by  Walter 
Damrosch  at  a  public  rehearsal  and  concert  of  the 
Symphony  Society  (the  Oratorio  Society  assisting) 
on  January  18  and  19,  1889.  The  third  scene  was 
performed  by  the  German  Liederkranz,  under 
Reinhold  L.  Herman,  on  January  27  of  the  same 
year.  The  third  and  fourth  scenes  were  in  the 
scheme  of  the  Cincinnati  Music  Festival,  Theodore 
Thomas,  conductor,  on  May  25,  1894. 

Each  of  the  eight  scenes  into  which  the  work  is 
divided  deals  with  an  episode  in  the  life  of  Israel's 
lawgiver.  In  the  first  scene  we  have  the  incident 
of  the  finding  of  the  child  in  the  bulrushes ;  in  the 
second  occurs  the  oppression  of  the  Israelites  by 
the  Egyptian  taskmasters,  the  slaying  of  one  of  the 
overseers  by  Moses,  who,  till  then  regarded  as  the 
king's  son,  now  proclaims  himself  one  of  the  op- 
pressed race.  The  third  scene  discloses  Moses 


44  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

protecting  Zipporah,  daughter  of  Jethro,  a  Midianit- 
ish  priest,  from  a  band  of  marauding  Edomites, 
his  acceptance  of  Jethro's  hospitality  and  the  scene 
of  the  burning  bush  and  the  proclamation  of  his 
mission.  Scene  IV  deals  with  the  plagues,  those  of 
blood,  hail,  locusts,  frogs,  and  vermin  being  delineated 
in  the  instrumental  introduction  to  the  part,  the 
action  beginning  while  the  land  is  shrouded  in  the 
"thick  darkness  that  might  be  felt."  The  Egyp- 
tians call  upon  Osiris  to  dispel  the  darkness,  but 
are  forced  at  last  to  appeal  to  Moses.  He  demands 
the  liberation  of  his  people  as  the  price  to  be  paid 
for  the  removal  of  the  plague ;  receiving  a  promise 
from  Pharaoh,  he  utters  a  prayer  ending  with  "Let 
there  be  light."  The  result  is  celebrated  in  a  bril- 
liant choral  acclamation  of  the  returning  sun.  The 
scene  has  a  parallel  in  Rossini's  opera.  Pharaoh  now 
equivocates ;  he  will  free  the  sons  of  Jacob,  but  not 
the  women,  children,  or  chattels.  Moses  threatens 
punishment  in  the  death  of  ah1  of  Egypt's  first- 
born, and  immediately  solo  and  chorus  voices  be- 
wail the  new  affliction.  When  the  king  hears  that 
his  son  is  dead  he  gives  his  consent,  and  the  Israelites 
depart  with  an  ejaculation  of  thanks  to  Jehovah. 
The  passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  Miriam's  celebration 
of  that  miracle,  the  backsliding  of  the  Israelites 
and  their  worship  of  the  golden  calf,  the  reception 
of  the  Tables  of  the  Law,  the  battle  between  the 
Israelites  and  Moabites  on  the  threshold  of  the 
Promised  Land,  and  the  evanishment  and  apotheosis 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER"  45 

of  Moses  are  the  contents  of  the  remainder  of  the 
work. 


It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  subjects 
which  opera  composers  have  found  adaptable  to 
their  uses  in  the  New  Testament  are  very  few  com- 
pared with  those  offered  by  the  Old.  The  books 
written  by  the  evangelists  around  the  most  stu- 
pendous tragical  story  of  all  time  set  forth  little  or 
nothing  (outside  of  the  birth,  childhood,  teachings, 
miracles,  death,  and  resurrection  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth) 
which  could  by  any  literary  ingenuity  be  turned  into 
a  stage  play  except  the  parables  with  which  Christ 
enforced  and  illustrated  His  sermons.  The  sublime 
language  and  imagery  of  the  Apocalypse  have  fur- 
nished forth  the  textual  body  of  many  oratorios,  but 
it  still  transcends  the  capacity  of  mortal  dramatist. 

In  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  there  is  no 
personage  whose  presentation  in  dramatic  garb 
could  be  looked  upon  as  a  profanation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. It  is  this  fact,  probably,  coupled  with  its 
profoundly  beautiful  reflection  of  human  nature, 
which  has  made  it  a  popular  subject  with  opera 
writers.  There  was  an  Italian  "Figliuolo  Pro- 
digo"  as  early  as  1704,  composed  by  one  Biffi;  a 
French  melodrama,  "L'Enfant  Prodigue,"  by  Mo- 
range  about  1810 ;  a  German  piece  of  similar  char- 
acter by  Joseph  Drechsler  in  Vienna  in  1820.  Pierre 
Gaveaux,  who  composed  "Le*onore,  ou  F Amour 


46  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Conjugal,"  which  provided  Beethoven  with  his 
"FideHo,"  brought  out  a  comic  opera  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Prodigal  Son  in  1811,  and  Berton,  who 
had  also  dipped  into  Old  Testament  story  in  an 
oratorio,  entitled  "Absalon,"  illustrated  the  para- 
ble in  a  ballet.  The  most  recent  settings  of  the 
theme  are  also  the  most  significant :  Auber's  five- 
act  opera  "L'  Enfant  Prodigue,"  brought  out  in 
Paris  in  1850,  and  Ponchielli's  "  II  Figliuolo  Prodigo," 
in  four  acts,  which  had  its  first  representation  at 
La  Scala  in  1880. 

The  mediaeval  mysteries  were  frequently  inter- 
spersed with  choral  songs,  for  which  the  liturgy 
of  the  Church  provided  material.  If  we  choose  to 
look  upon  them  as  incipient  operas  or  precursors 
of  that  art-form  we  must  yet  observe  that  their 
monkish  authors,  willing  enough  to  trick  out  the 
story  of  the  Nativity  with  legendary  matter  drawn 
from  the  Apocryphal  New  Testament,  which  dis- 
closes anything  but  a  reverential  attitude  toward 
the  sublime  tragedy,  nevertheless  stood  in  such 
awe  before  the  spectacle  of  Calvary  that  they 
deemed  it  wise  to  leave  its  dramatic  treatment  to 
the  church  service  in  the  Passion  Tide.  In  that 
service  there  was  something  approaching  to  char- 
acterization in  the  manner  of  the  reading  by  the 
three  deacons  appointed  to  deliver,  respectively, 
the  narrative,  the  words  of  Christ,  and  the  utterances 
of  the  Apostles  and  people ;  and  it  may  be  that  this 
and  the  liturgical  solemnities  of  Holy  Week  were 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER"  4T 

reverently  thought  sufficient  by  them  and  the 
authors  of  the  first  sacred  operas.  Nevertheless, 
we  have  Reiser's  "Der  Blutige  und  Sterbende 
Jesus/'  performed  at  Hamburg,  and  Metastasio's 
"La  Passione  di  Gesu  Christi/'  composed  first 
by  Caldara,  which  probably  was  an  oratorio. 

Earlier  than  these  was  Theile's  "Die  Geburt 
Christi,"  performed  in  Hamburg  in  1681.  The 
birth  of  Christ  and  His  childhood  (there  was  an 
operatic  representation  of  His  presentation  in  the 
Temple)  were  subjects  which  appealed  more  to  the 
writers  of  the  rude  plays  which  catered  to  the  popu- 
lar love  for  dramatic  mummery  than  did  His  cru- 
cifixion. I  am  speaking  now  more  specifically 
of  lyric  dramas,  but  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  in  the 
Coventry  mysteries,  as  Hone  points  out  in  the 
preface  to  his  book,  "Ancient  Mysteries  Described,"  l 
there  are  eight  plays,  or  pageants,  which  deal  with 
the  Nativity  as  related  in  the  canon  and  the  pseudo- 
gospels.  In  them  much  stress  was  laid  upon  the 
suspicions  of  the  Virgin  Mother's  chastity,  for  here 
was  material  that  was  good  for  rude  diversion  as 
well  as  instruction  in  righteousness. 


That  Rubinstein  dared  to  compose  a  Christ 
drama  must  be  looked  upon  as  proof  of  the  pro- 

1  "Ancient  Mysteries  Described,  especially  the  English 
Miracle  Plays  Founded  on  Apocryphal  New  Testament  Story,'* 
London,  1823. 


48  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

found  sincerity  of  his  belief  in  the  art-form  which 
he  fondly  hoped  he  had  created ;  also,  perhaps,  as 
evidence  of  his  artistic  ingenuousness.  Only  a 
brave  or  naive  mind  could  have  calmly  contemplated 
a  labor  from  which  great  dramatists,  men  as  great 
as  Hebbel,  shrank  back  in  alarm.  After  the  com- 
pletion of  "Lohengrin"  Wagner  applied  himself 
to  the  creation  of  a  tragedy  which  he  called  "Jesus 
of  Nazareth."  We  know  his  plan  in  detail,  but 
he  abandoned  it  after  he  had  offered  his  sketches 
to  a  French  poet  as  the  basis  of  a  lyric  drama  which 
he  hoped  to  write  for  Paris.  He  confesses  that 
he  was  curious  to  know  what  the  Frenchman  would 
do  with  a  work  the  stage  production  of  which  would 
"provoke  a  thousand  frights."  He  himself  was 
unwilling  to  stir  up  such  a  tempest  in  Germany; 
instead,  he  put  his  sketches  aside  and  used  some  of 
their  material  in  his  "Parsifal." 

Wagner  ignored  the  religious,  or,  let  us  say,  the 
ecclesiastical,  point  of  view  entirely  in  "Jesus  of 
Nazareth."  His  hero  was  to  have  been,  as  I  have 
described  him  elsewhere,2  "a  human  philosopher 
who  preached  the  saving  grace  of  Love  and  sought 
to  redeem  his  time  and  people  from  the  domina- 
tion of  conventional  law  —  the  offspring  of  selfish- 
ness. His  philosophy  was  socialism  imbued  by 
love."  Rubinstein  proceeded  along  the  lines  of 
history,  or  orthodox  belief,  as  unreservedly  in  his 
"Christus"  as  he  had  done  in  his  "Moses."  The 
work  may  be  said  to  have  brought  his  creative  activ- 

1  "A  Book  of  Operas,"  p.  288. 


RUBINSTEIN'S  "GEISTLICHE  OPER"  49 

ities  to  a  close,  although  two  compositions  (a  set 
of  six  pianoforte  pieces  and  an  orchestral  suite) 
appear  in  his  list  of  numbered  works  after  the  sacred 
opera.  He  died  on  November  20,  1894,  without 
having  seen  a  stage  representation  of  it.  Nor  did 
he  live  to  see  a  public  theatrical  performance  of  his 
"Moses,"  though  he  was  privileged  to  witness  a 
private  performance  arranged  at  the  German  Na- 
tional Theatre  in  Prague  so  that  he  might  form  an 
opinion  of  its  effectiveness.  The  public  has  never 
been  permitted  to  learn  anything  about  the  impres- 
sion which  the  work  made. 

On  May  25,  1895,  a  series  of  representations  of 
"Christus"  was  begun  in  Bremen,  largely  through 
the  instrumentality  of  Professor  Bulthaupt,  a  potent 
and  pervasive  personage  in  the  old  Hanseatic  town. 
He  was  not  only  a  poet  and  the  author  of  the  book 
of  this  opera  and  of  some  of  Bruch's  works,  but  also 
a  painter,  and  his  mural  decorations  in  the  Bremen 
Chamber  of  Commerce  are  proudly  displayed  by 
the  citizens  of  the  town.  It  was  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  painter-poet  that  the  Bremen  repre- 
sentations were  given  and,  unless  I  am  mistaken, 
he  painted  the  scenery  or  much  of  it.  One  of  the 
provisions  of  the  performances  was  that  applause 
was  prohibited  out  of  .reverence  for  the  sacred 
character  of  the  scenes,  which  were  as  frankly  set 
forth  as  at  Oberammergau.  The  contents  of  the 
tragedy  in  some  scenes  and  an  epilogue  briefly  out- 
lined are  these :  The  first  scene  shows  the  temptation 


50  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

of  Christ  in  the  wilderness,  where  the  devil  "shewed 
unto  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a  moment 
of  time."  This  disclosure  is  made  by  a  series  of 
scenes,  each  opening  for  a  short  time  in  the  back- 
ground—  castles,  palaces,  gardens,  mountains  of 
gold,  and  massive  heaps  of  earth's  treasures.  In  the 
second  scene  John  the  Baptist  is  seen  and  heard 
preaching  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  in  whose 
waters  he  baptizes  Jesus.  This  scene  at  the  Bremen 
representations  was  painted  from  sketches  made 
by  Herr  Handrich  in  Palestine,  as  was  also  that  of 
the  "Sermon  on  the  Mount"  and  "The  Miracle 
of  the  Loaves  and  Fishes,"  which  form  the  subject 
of  the  next  part.  The  fourth  tableau  shows  the 
expulsion  of  the  money  changers  from  the  Temple ; 
the  fifth  the  Last  Supper,  with  the  garden  of  Geth- 
semane  as  a  background;  the  sixth  the  trial  and 
the  last  the  crucifixion.  Here,  as  if  harking  back 
to  his  "Tower  of  Babel,"  Rubinstein  brings  in 
pictures  of  heaven  and  hell,  with  angels  and  devils 
contemplating  the  catastrophe.  The  proclamation 
of  the  Gospel  to  the  Gentiles  by  St.  Paul  is  the  sub- 
ject of  the  epilogue. 


CHAPTER  IV 
"SAMSON  ET  DALIIA" 

THERE  are  but  two  musical  works  based  on  the 
story  of  Samson  on  the  current  list  to-day,  Han- 
del's oratorio  and  Saint-Saens's  opera;  but  lyric 
drama  was  still  in  its  infancy  when  the  subject 
first  took  hold  of  the  fancy  of  composers  and  it  has 
held  it  ever  since.  The  earliest  works  were  of  the 
kind  called  sacred  operas  in  the  books  and  are 
spoken  of  as  oratorios  now,  though  they  were 
doubtless  performed  with  scenery  and  costumes 
and  with  action  of  a  sort.  Such  were  "II  Sansone" 
by  Giovanni  Paola  Colonna  (Bologna,  1677),  "San- 
sone accecato  da  Filistri"  by  Francesco  Antonio 
Uri  (Venice,  about  1700),  "Simson"  by  Christoph 
Graupner  (Hamburg,  1709),  "Simson"  by  Georg 
von  Pasterwitz  (about  1770),  "Samson"  by  J.  N. 
Lefroid  Mereaux  (Paris,  1774),  "Simson"  by 
Johann  Heinrich  Rolle  (about  1790),  "Simson" 
by  Franz  Tuczek  (Vienna,  1804),  and  "H  Sansone" 
by  Francesco  Basili  (Naples,  1824).  Two  French 
operas  are  associated  with  great  names  and  have 
interesting  histories.  Voltaire  wrote  a  dramatic 
text  on  the  subject  at  the  request  of  La  Popeliniere, 

51 


62  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

the  farmer-general,  who,  as  poet,  musician,  and  artist, 
exercised  a  tremendous  influence  in  his  day.  Ra- 
meau  was  in  his  service  as  household  clavecinist  and 
set  Voltaire's  poem.  The  authors  looked  forward 
to  a  production  on  the  stage  of  the  Grand  Opera, 
where  at  least  two  Biblical  operas,  an  Old  Testa- 
ment "Jephte"  and  a  New  Testament  "Enfant 
prodigue"  were  current;  but  Rameau  had  powerful 
enemies,  and  the  opera  was  prohibited  on  the  eve 
of  the  day  on  which  it  was  to  have  been  performed. 
The  composer  had  to  stomach  his  mortification  as 
best  he  could;  he  put  some  of  his  Hebrew  music 
into  the  service  of  his  Persian  "Zoroastre." 

The  other  French  Samson  to  whom  I  have  re- 
ferred had  also  to  undergo  a  sea-change  like  unto 
Rameau's,  Rossini's  Moses,  and  Verdi's  Nebuchad- 
nezzar. Duprez,  who  was  ambitious  to  shine  as  a 
composer  as  well  as  a  singer  (he  wrote  no  less  than 
eight  operas  and  also  an  oratorio,  "The  Last  Judg- 
ment"), tried  his  hand  on  a  Samson  opera  and  suc- 
ceeded in  enlisting  the  help  of  Dumas  the  elder  in 
writing  the  libretto.  When  he  was  ready  to  present 
it  at  the  door  of  the  Grand  Ope*ra  the  Minister  of 
Fine  Arts  told  him  that  it  was  impracticable,  as 
the  stage-setting  of  the  last  act  alone  would  cost 
more  than  100,000  francs.  Duprez  then  followed 
the  example  set  with  Rossini's  "Mose"  in  London 
and  changed  the  book  to  make  it  tell  a  story  of  the 
crusades  which  he  called  "Zephora."  Neverthe- 
less the  original  form  was  restored  in  German  and 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  53 

Italian  translations  of  the  work,  and  it  had  concert 
performances  in  1857.  To  Joachim  Raff  was  denied 
even  this  poor  comfort.  He  wrote  a  German 
"Simson"  between  1851  and  1857.  The  conductor 
at  Darmstadt  to  whom  it  was  first  submitted  re- 
jected it  on  the  ground  that  it  was  too  difficult  for 
his  singers.  Raff  then  gave  it  to  Liszt,  with  whom 
he  was  sojourning  at  Weimar,  and  who  had  taken 
pity  on  his  "Konig  Alfred";  but  the  tenor  singer 
at  the  Weimar  opera  said  the  music  was  too  high 
for  the  voice.  Long  afterward  Wagner's  friend, 
Schnorr  von  Carolsf  eld,  saw  the  score  in  the  hands 
of  the  composer.  The  heroic  stature  of  the  hero 
delighted  him,  and  his  praise  moved  Raff  to  revise 
the  opera;  but  before  this  had  been  done  Schnorr 
died  of  the  cold  contracted  while  creating  the  r61e 
of  Wagner's  Tristan  at  Munich  in  1865.  Thus 
mournfully  ended  the  third  episode.  As  late  as 
1882  Raff  spoke  of  taking  the  opera  in  hand  again, 
but  though  he  may  have  done  so  his  death  found 
the  work  unperformed  and  it  has  not  yet  seen  the 
light  of  the  stage-lamps. 

Saint-Saens's  opera  has  also  passed  through  many 
vicissitudes,  but  has  succumbed  to  none  and  is 
probably  possessed  of  more  vigorous  life  now  than 
it  ever  had.  It  is  the  recognized  operatic  master- 
piece of  the  most  resourceful  and  fecund  French 
musician  since  Berlioz.  Saint-Saens  began  the 
composition  of  "Samson  et  Dalila"  in  1869.  The 
author  of  the  book,  Ferdinand  Lemaire,  was  a  cousin 


54  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

of  the  composer.  Before  the  breaking  out  of  the 
Franco-Prussian  War  the  score  was  so  far  on  the 
way  to  completion  that  it  was  possible  to  give  its 
second  act  a  private  trial.  This  was  done,  an  in- 
cident of  the  occasion  —  which  afterward  intro- 
duced one  element  of  pathos  in  its  history  —  being 
the  singing  of  the  part  of  Samson  by  the  painter 
Henri  Regnault,  who  soon  after  lost  his  life  hi  the 
service  of  his  country.  A  memorial  to  him  and 
the  friendship  which  existed  between  him  and  the 
composer  is  the  "Marche  He*roique,"  which  bears 
the  dead  man's  name  on  its  title-page.  Toward 
the  end  of  1872  the  opera  was  finished.  For  two 
years  the  score  rested  in  the  composer's  desk.  Then 
the  second  act  was  again  brought  forth  for  trial, 
this  time  at  the  country  home  of  Mme.  Viardot, 
at  Croissy,  the  illustrious  hostess  singing  the  part  of 
Dalila.  In  1875  the  first  act  was  performed  in 
concert  style  by  M.  Edouard  Colonne  in  Paris. 
Liszt  interested  himself  in  the  opera  and  secured 
its  acceptance  at  the  Grand  Ducal  Opera  House  of 
Weimar,  where  Eduard  Lassen  brought  it  out  on 
December  2,  1877.  Brussels  heard  it  in  1878 ;  but 
it  did  not  reach  one  of  the  theatres  of  France  until 
March  3,  1890,  when  Rouen  produced  it  at  its  The"- 
atre  des  Arts  under  the  direction  of  M.  Henri  Verd- 
hurt.  It  took  nearly  seven  months  more  to  reach 
Paris,  where  the  first  representation  was  at  the 
Eden  Theatre  on  October  31  of  the  same  year. 
Two  years  later,  after  it  had  been  heard  in  a  number 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  55 

of  French  and  Italian  provincial  theatres,  it  was 
given  at  the  Academic  Nationale  de  Musique  under 
the  direction  of  M.  Colonne.  The  part  of  Dalila 
was  taken  by  Mme.  Deschamps-Jehin,  that  of 
Samson  by  M.  Vergnet,  that  of  the  High  Priest 
by  M.  Lassalle.  Eight  months  before  this  it  had 
been  performed  as  an  oratorio  by  the  Oratorio 
Society  of  New  York.  There  were  two  perform- 
ances, on  March  25  and  26,  1892,  the  conductor 
being  Mr.  Walter  Damrosch  and  the  principal 
singers  being  Frau  Marie  Ritter-Goetze,  Sebastian 
Montariol,  H.  E.  Distelhurst,  Homer  Moore,  Emil 
Fischer,  and  Purdon  Robinson.  London  had  heard 
the  work  twice  as  an  oratorio  before  it  had  a  stage 
representation  there  on  April  26,  1909,  but  this 
performance  was  fourteen  years  later  than  the  first 
at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  on  February  8, 
1895.  The  New  York  performance  was  scenically 
inadequate,  but  the  integrity  of  the  record  demands 
that  the  cast  be  given  here :  Samson,  Signor  Ta- 
magno ;  Dalila,  Mme.  Mantelli ;  High  Priest,  Signor 
Campanari;  Abimelech  and  An  Old  Hebrew,  M. 
Plangon ;  First  Philistine,  Signor  Rinaldini ;  Second 
Philistine,  Signor  de  Vachetti;  conductor,  Signor 
Mancinelli.  The  Metropolitan  management  did 
not  venture  upon  a  repetition  until  the  opening 
night  of  the  season  1915-1916,  when  its  success  was 
such  that  it  became  an  active  factor  in  the  repertory 
of  the  establishment ;  but  by  that  time  it  had  been 
made  fairly  familiar  to  the  New  York  public  by 


56  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

performances  at  the  Manhattan  Opera  House  under 
the  management  of  Mr.  Oscar  Hammerstein,  the 
first  of  which  took  place  on  November  13,  1908. 
Signor  Campanini  conducted  and  the  cast  embraced 
Mme.  Gerville-Re*ache  as  Dalila,  Charles  Dai- 
mores  as  Samson,  and  M.  Dufranne  as  High  Priest. 
The  cast  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House's  revival 
of  the  opera  on  November  15,  1915,  was  as  follows : 
Dalila,  Mme.  Margarete  Matzenauer;  Samson, 
Signor  Enrico  Caruso;  High  Priest,  Signor  Pas- 
quale  Amato;  Abimelech,  Herr  Carl  Schlegel; 
An  Old  Hebrew,  M.  Le*on  Rothier;  A  Philistine 
Messenger,  Herr  Max  Bloch ;  First  Philistine,  Pietro 
Audisio;  Second  Philistine,  Vincenzo  Reschiglian; 
conductor,  Signor  Polacco. 


It  would  be  a  curious  inquiry  to  try  to  determine 
the  source  of  the  fascination  which  the  story  of 
Manoah's  son  has  exerted  upon  mankind  for  centu- 
ries. It  bears  a  likeness  to  the  story  of  the  son  of 
Zeus  and  Alcmene,  and  there  are  few  books  on 
mythology  which  do  not  draw  a  parallel  between 
the  two  heroes.  Samson's  story  is  singularly  brief. 
For  twenty  years  he  "  judged  Israel,"  but  the  Bib- 
lical history  which  deals  with  him  consists  only  of 
an  account  of  his  birth,  a  recital  of  the  incidents  in 
which  he  displayed  his  prodigious  strength  and 
valor,  the  tale  of  his  amours,  and,  at  the  end,  the 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  57 

account  of  his  tragical  destruction,  brought  ab</ut 
by  the  weak  element  in  his  character. 

Commentators  have  been  perplexed  by  the  tale, 
irrespective  of  the  adornments  which  it  has  received 
at  the  hands  of  the  Talmudists.  Is  Samson  a 
Hebrew  form  of  the  conception  personified  by  the 
Greek  Herakles?  Is  he  a  mythical  creature,  born 
in  the  human  imagination  of  primitive  nature  wor- 
ship—  a  variant  of  the  Tyrian  sun-god  Shemesh, 
whose  name  his  so  curiously  resembles  ? *  Was 
he  something  more  than  a  man  of  extraordinary 
physical  strength  and  extraordinary  moral  weak- 
ness, whose  patriotic  virtues  and  pathetic  end  have 
kept  his  memory  alive  through  the  ages?  Have 
a  hundred  generations  of  men  to  whom  the  story 
of  Herakles  has  appeared  to  be  only  a  fanciful 
romance,  the  product  of  that  imagination  height- 
ened by  religion  which  led  the  Greeks  to  exalt  their 
supreme  heroes  to  the  extent  of  deification,  persisted 
in  hearing  and  telling  the  story  of  Samson  with  a 
sympathetic  interest  which  betrays  at  least  a  sub- 
conscious belief  in  its  verity?  Is  the  story  only 
a  parable  enforcing  a  moral  lesson  which  is  as  old 
as  humanity?  If  so,  how  got  it  into  the  canonical 
Book  of  Judges,  which,  with  all  its  mythical  and 
legendary  material,  seems  yet  to  contain  a  large 
substratum  of  unquestionable  history  ? 

There  was  nothing  of  the  divine  essence  in  Sam- 
son as  the  Hebrews  conceived  him,  except  that 
1  In  Hebrew  he  is  called  Shimshon,  and  the  sun  shemesh. 


58  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

spirit  of  God  with  which  he  was  directly  endowed 
in  supreme  crises.  There  is  little  evidence  of  his 
possession  of  great  wisdom,  but  strong  proof  of  his 
moral  and  religious  laxity.  He  sinned  against  the 
laws  of  Israel's  God  when  he  took  a  Philistine  woman, 
an  idolater,  to  wife;  he  sinned  against  the  moral 
law  when  he  visited  the  harlot  at  Gaza.  He  was 
wofully  weak  in  character  when  he  yielded  to  the 
blandishments  of  Delilah  and  wrought  his  own  un- 
doing, as  well  as  that  of  his  people.  The  disgrace- 
ful slavery  into  which  Herakles  fell  was  not  caused 
by  the  hero's  incontinence  or  uxoriousness,  but  a 
punishment  for  crime,  in  that  he  had  in  a  fit  of  mad- 
ness killed  his  friend  Iphitus.  And  the  three  years 
which  he  spent  as  the  slave  of  Omphale  were  punc- 
tuated by  larger  and  better  deeds  than  those  of 
Samson  in  like  situation  —  bursting  the  new  cords 
with  which  the  men  of  Judah  had  bound  him  and 
the  green  withes  and  new  ropes  with  which  Delilah 
shackled  him.  The  record  that  Samson  "judged 
Israel  in  the  days  of  the  Philistines  twenty  years" 
leads  the  ordinary  reader  to  think  of  him  as  a  sage, 
judicial  personage,  whereas  it  means  only  that  he 
was  the  political  and  military  leader  of  his  people 
during  that  period,  lifted  to  a  magisterial  position 
by  his  strength  and  prowess  in  war.  His  achieve- 
ments were  muscular,  not  mental. 

Rabbinical  legends  have  magnified  his  stature 
and  power  in  precisely  the  same  manner  as  the 
imagination  of  the  poet  of  the  "Lay  of  the  Nibe- 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  59 

lung"  magnified  the  stature  and  strength  of  Sieg- 
fried. His  shoulders,  says  the  legend,  were  sixty 
ells  broad ;  when  the  Spirit  of  God  came  on  him  he 
could  step  from  Zorah  to  Eshtaol  although  he  was 
lame  in  both  feet ;  the  hairs  of  his  head  arose  and 
clashed  against  one  another  so  that  they  could  be 
heard  for  a  like  distance ;  he  was  so  strong  that  he 
could  uplift  two  mountains  and  rub  them  together 
like  two  clods  of  earth.  Herakles  tore  asunder 
the  mountain  which,  divided,  now  forms  the  Straits 
of  Gibraltar  and  Gates  of  Hercules. 

The  parallel  which  is  frequently  drawn  between 
Samson  and  Herakles  cannot  be  pursued  far  with 
advantage  to  the  Hebrew  hero.  Samson  rent  a 
young  lion  on  the  road  to  Timnath,  whither  he  was 
going  to  take  his  Philistine  wife;  Herakles,  while 
still  a  youthful  herdsman,  slew  the  Thespian  lion 
and  afterward  strangled  the  Nemean  lion  with  his 
hands.  Samson  carried  off  the  gates  of  Gaza  and 
bore  them  to  the  top  of  a  hill  before  Hebron ;  Her- 
akles upheld  the  heavens  while  Atlas  went  to  fetch 
the  golden  apples  of  Hesperides.  Moreover,  the 
feats  of  Herakles  show  a  higher  intellectual  quality 
than  those  of  Samson,  all  of  which,  save  one,  were 
predominantly  physical.  The  exception  was  the 
trick  of  tying  300  foxes  by  their  tails,  two  by  two, 
with  firebrands  between  and  turning  them  loose  to 
burn  the  corn  of  the  Philistines.  An  ingenious 
way  to  spread  a  conflagration,  probably,  but  primi- 
tive, decidedly  primitive.  Herakles  was  a  scientific 


60  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

engineer  of  the  modern  school ;  he  yoked  the  rivers 
Aloheiis  and  Peneus  to  his  service  by  turning  their 
waters  through  the  Augean  stables  and  cleansing 
them  of  the  deposits  of  3000  oxen  for  thirty  years. 
Herakles  had  excellent  intellectual  training ;  Rhada- 
manthus  taught  him  wisdom  and  virtue,  Linus 
music.  We  know  nothing  about  the  bringing  up  of 
Samson  save  that  "the  child  grew  and  the  Lord 
blessed  him.  And  the  Lord  began  to  move  him  at 
times  in  the  camp  of  Dan  between  Zorah  and  Esh- 
taol."  Samson  made  little  use  of  his  musical 
gifts,  if  he  had  any,  but  that  little  he  made  well; 
Herakles  made  little  use  of  his  musical  training, 
and  that  little  he  made  ill.  He  lost  his  temper  and 
killed  his  music  master  with  his  lute ;  Samson,  after 
using  an  implement  which  only  the  black  slaves 
of  our  South  have  treated  as  a  musical  instrument, 
to  slay  a  thousand  Philistines,  jubilated  in  song :  — 

With  the  jawbone  of  an  ass 

Heaps  upon  heaps ! 
With  the  jawbone  of  an  ass 

Have  I  slain  a  thousand  men ! 

The  vast  fund  of  human  nature  laid  bare  in  the 
story  of  Samson  is,  it  appears  to  me,  quite  sufficient 
to  explain  its  popularity,  and  account  for  its  origin. 
The  hero's  virtues  —  strength,  courage,  patriotism 
—  are  those  which  have  ever  won  the  hearts  of  men, 
and  they  present  themselves  as  but  the  more  ad- 
mirable, as  they  are  made  to  appear  more  natural, 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  61 

by  pairing  with  that  amiable  weakness,  susceptibility 
to  woman's  charms. 

After  all  Samson  is  a  true  type  of  the  tragic  hero, 
whatever  Dr.  Chrysander  or  another  may  say. 
He  is  impelled  by  Fate  into  a  commission  of  the 
follies  which  bring  about  the  wreck  of  his  body. 
His  marriage  with  the  Philistine  woman  in  Timnath 
was  part  of  a  divine  plot,  though  unpatriotic  and 
seemingly  impious.  When  his  father  said  unto 
him :  "Is  there  never  a  woman  among  the  daughters 
of  thy  brethren  or  among  all  my  people  that  thou 
goest  to  take  a  wife  of  the  uncircumcised  Philis- 
tines?" he  did  not  know  that  "it  was  of  the  Lord 
that  he  sought  an  occasion  against  the  Philistines." 
Out  of  that  wooing  and  winning  grew  the  first  of 
the  encounters  which  culminated  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  temple  of  Dagon,  when  "the  dead  which 
he  slew  at  his  death  were  more  than  they  which  he 
slew  in  his  life."  So  his  yielding  to  the  pleadings 
of  his  wife  when  she  betrayed  the  answer  to  his 
riddle  and  his  succumbing  to  the  wheedling  arts 
of  Delilah  when  he  betrayed  the  secret  of  his  strength 
(acts  incompatible  with  the  character  of  an  ordinary 
strong  and  wise  man)  were  of  the  type  essential 
to  the  machinery  of  the  Greek  drama. 

A  word  about  the  mythological  interpretation 
of  the  characters  which  have  been  placed  in  parallel : 
It  may  be  helpful  to  an  understanding  of  the  Hellenic 
mind  to  conceive  Herakles  as  a  marvellously  strong 
man,  first  glorified  into  a  national  hero  and  finally 


02  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

deified.  So,  too,  the  theory  that  Herakles  sinking 
down  upon  his  couch  of  fire  is  but  a  symbol  of  the 
declining  sun  can  be  entertained  without  marring 
the  grandeur  of  the  hero  or  belittling  Nature's 
phenomenon;  but  it  would  obscure  our  under- 
standing of  the  Hebrew  intellect  and  profane  the 
Hebrew  religion  to  conceive  Samson  as  anything 
but  the  man  that  the  Bible  says  he  was;  while 
to  make  of  him,  as  Ignaz  Golziher  suggests,  a  sym- 
bol of  the  setting  sun  whose  curly  locks  (crines 
Phoebi)  are  sheared  by  Delilah-Night,  would  bring 
contumely  upon  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  im- 
pressive of  Nature's  spectacles.  Before  the  days 
of  comparative  mythology  scholars  were  not  troubled 
by  such  interpretations.  Josephus  disposes  of  the 
Delilah  episode  curtly:  "As  for  Samson  being  en- 
snared by  a  woman,  that  is  to  be  ascribed  to  human 
nature,  which  is  too  weak  to  resist  sin." 


* 
*      * 


It  is  not  often  that  an  operatic  figure  invites 
to  such  a  study  as  that  which  I  have  attempted 
in  the  case  of  Samson,  and  it  may  be  that  the  side- 
wise  excursion  in  which  I  have  indulged  invites 
criticism  of  the  kind  illustrated  in  the  metaphor 
of  using  a  club  to  brain  a  gnat.  But  I  do  not  think 
BO.  If  heroic  figures  seem  small  on  the  operatic 
stage,  it  is  the  fault  of  either  the  author  or  the  actor. 
When  genius  in  a  creator  is  paired  with  genius  in  an 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  63 

interpreter,  the  hero  of  an  opera  is  quite  as  deserving 
of  analytical  study  as  the  hero  of  a  drama  which  is 
spoken.  No  labor  would  be  lost  in  studying  the 
character  of  Wagner's  heroes  in  order  to  illuminate 
the  impersonations  of  Niemann,  Lehmann,  or  Scaria ; 
nor  is  Maurel's  I  ago  less  worthy  of  investigation 
than  Edwin  Booth's. 

The  character  of  Delilah  presents  even  more 
features  of  interest  than  that  of  the  man  of  whom 
she  was  the  undoing,  and  to  those  features  I  purpose 
to  devote  some  attention  presently. 

There  is  no  symbolism  in  Saint-Saens's  opera. 
It  is  frankly  a  piece  for  the  lyric  theatre,  albeit 
one  in  which  adherence  to  a  plot  suggested  by  the 
Biblical  story  compelled  a  paucity  of  action  which 
had  to  be  made  good  by  spectacle  and  music.  The 
best  element  in  a  drama  being  that  which  finds 
expression  in  action  and  dialogue,  and  these  being 
restricted  by  the  obvious  desire  of  the  composers 
to  avoid  such  extraneous  matter  as  Rossini  and 
others  were  wont  to  use  to  add  interest  to  their 
Biblical  operas  (the  secondary  love  stories,  for 
instance),  Saint-Saens  could  do  nothing  else  than 
employ  liberally  the  splendid  factor  of  choral  music 
which  the  oratorio  form  brought  to  his  hand. 

We  are  introduced  to  that  factor  without  delay. 
Even  before  the  first  scene  is  opened  to  our  eyes 
we  hear  the  voice  of  the  multitude  in  prayer.  The 
Israelites,  oppressed  by  their  conquerors  and  sore 
stricken  at  the  reflection  that  their  God  has  deserted 


64 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


them,  lament,  accuse,  protest,  and  pray.  Before 
they  have  been  heard,  the  poignancy  of  their  woe 
has  been  published  by  the  orchestra,  which  at  once 
takes  its  place  beside  the  chorus  as  a  peculiarly 
eloquent  expositor  of  the  emotions  and  passions 
which  propel  the  actors  in  the  drama.  That  mission 
and  that  eloquence  it  maintains  from  the  beginning 
to  the  final  catastrophe,  the  instrumental  band 
doing  its  share  toward  characterizing  the  opposing 
forces,  emphasizing  the  solemn  dignity  of  the  Hebrew 
religion  and  contrasting  it  with  the  sensuous  and 
sensual  frivolity  of  the  worshippers  of  Dagon.  The 
choral  prayer  has  for  its  instrumental  substructure 
an  obstinate  syncopated  figure, 


I 


j — 3 — i 


which  rises  with  the  agonized  cries  of  the  people 
and  sinks  with  their  utterances  of  despair.  The 
device  of  introducing  voices  before  the  disclosure 
of  visible  action  in  an  opera  is  not  new,  and  in  this 
case  is  both  uncalled  for  and  ineffective.  Gounod 
made  a  somewhat  similar  effort  in  his  "Rome*o  et 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  65 

Juliette,"  where  a  costumed  group  of  singers  presents 
a  prologue,  vaguely  visible  through  a  gauze  curtain. 
Meyerbeer  tried  the  expedient  in  "Le  Pardon  de 
Ploermel,"  and  the  siciliano  in  Mascagni's  "Caval- 
leria  rusticana"  and  the  prologue  in  Leoncavallo's 
"Pagliacci"  are  other  cases  in  point.  Of  these 
only  the  last  can  be  said  to  achieve  its  purpose  in 
arresting  the  early  attention  of  the  audience.  When 
the  curtain  opens  we  see  a  public  place  in  Gaza 
in  front  of  the  temple  of  Dagon.  The  Israelites 
are  on  their  knees  and  in  attitudes  of  mourning, 
among  them  Samson.  The  voice  of  lamentation 
takes  a  fugal  form  — 


•i:E3E 

4- 

-1-  — 



as  the  oppressed  people  tell  of  the  sufferings  which 
they  have  endured :  — 

Nous  avons  vu  nos  cit£s  renvers£es 
Et  les  gentils  profanants  ton  autel,  etc. 

The  expression  rises  almost  to  the  intensity  of 
sacrilegious  accusation  as  the  people  recall  to  God 
the  vow  made  to  them  in  Egypt,  but  sinks  to  accents 
of  awe  when  they  reflect  upon  the  incidents  of  their 
former  serfdom.  Now  Samson  stands  forth.  In  a 
broad  arioso,  half  recitative,  half  cantilena,  wholly 
in  the  oratorio  style  when  it  does  not  drop  into  the 


18 

mannerism  of  Meyerbeerian  opera,  he  admonishes 
his  brethren  of  their  need  to  trust  in  God,  their  duty 
to  worship  Him,  of  His  promises  to  aid  them,  of 
the  wonders  that  He  had  already  wrought  in  their 
behalf;  he  bids  them  to  put  off  their  doubts  and 
put  on  their  armor  of  faith  and  valor.  As  he  pro- 
ceeds in  his  preachment  he  develops  somewhat  of 
the  theatrical  pose  of  John  of  Ley  den  in  "The 
Prophet."  The  Israelites  mutter  gloomily  of  the 
departure  of  their  days  of  glory,  but  gradually  take 
warmth  from  the  spirit  which  has  obsessed  Samson 
and  pledge  themselves  to  do  battle  with  the  foe 
with  him  under  the  guidance  of  Jehovah. 

Now  Abimelech,  Satrap  of  Gaza,  appears  sur- 
rounded by  Philistine  soldiers.  He  rails  at  the 
Israelites  as  slaves,  sneers  at  their  God  as  impotent 
and  craven,  lifts  up  the  horn  of  Dagon,  who,  he 
says,  shall  pursue  Jehovah  as  a  falcon  pursues  a 
dove.  The  speech  fills  Samson  with  a  divine  anger, 
which  bursts  forth  in  a  canticle  of  prayer  and  proph- 
ecy. There  is  a  flash  as  of  swords  in  the  scintillant 
scale  passages  which  rush  upward  from  the  eager, 
angry?  pushing  figure  which  mutters  and  rages 
among  the  instruments.  The  Israelites  catch  fire 
from  Samson's  ecstatic  ardor  and  echo  the  words 
in  which  he  summons  them  to  break  their  chains. 
Abimelech  rushes  forward  to  kill  Samson,  but  the 
hero  wrenches  the  sword  from  the  Philistine's  hand 
and  strikes  him  dead.  The  satrap's  soldiers  would 
Qome  to  his  aid,  but  are  held  in  fear  by  the  hero, 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  67 

who  is  now  armed.  The  Israelites  rush  off  to  make 
war  on  their  oppressors.  The  High  Priest  comes 
down  from  the  temple  of  Dagon  and  pauses  where 
the  body  of  Abimelech  lies.  Two  Philistines  tell 
of  the  fear  which  had  paralyzed  them  when  Samson 
showed  his  might.  The  High  Priest  rebukes  them 
roundly  for  their  cowardice,  but  has  scarcely  uttered 
his  denunciation  before  a  Messenger  enters  to  tell 
him  that  Samson  and  his  Israelitish  soldiers  have 
overrun  and  ravaged  the  country.  Curses  and  vows 
of  vengeance  against  Israel,  her  hero,  and  her  God 
from  the  mouth  of  Dagon's  servant.  One  of  his 
imprecations  is  destined  to  be  fulfilled :  — 

Maudit  soit  le  sein  de  la  femme 

Qui  lui  donna  le  jour ! 
Qu'enfin  une  compagne  infame 

Trahisse  son  amour ! 

Revolutions  run  a  rapid  course  in  operatic  Pales- 
tine. The  insurrection  is  but  begun  with  the  slay- 
ing of  Abimelech,  yet  as  the  Philistines,  bearing  away 
his  body,  leave  the  scene,  it  is  only  to  make  room  for 
the  Israelites,  chanting  of  their  victory.  We  expect 
a  sonorous  hymn  of  triumph,  but  the  people  of  God 
have  been  chastened  and  awed  by  their  quick  deliv- 
erance, and  their  paean  is  in  the  solemn  tone  of 
temple  psalmody,  the  first  striking  bit  of  local  color 
which  the  composer  has  introduced  into  his  score  — 
a  reticence  on  his  part  of  which  it  may  be  said  that  it 
is  all  the  more  remarkable  from  the  fact  that  local 
color  is  here  completely  justified :  — 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


f> 


^Cy     C 

>    -P        i*       f  ' 

s  f-^r 

p  —  •  —  *  — 

x  P  
P  h—  — 

-2^*- 

9              f 

j  

Praise       ye       Je    -  ho    -  vah  1     Tell     all    tlie    wondroua 


^Y  

£  —  -i*^ 

"  •— 

.  —gt  1  — 

f-^-=- 

-f  —  ^  —  ^r— 

-^'b 

i  r  ' 

sto  -  ry  !      Psalms  of    praise  loud  -  ly 


swell  I 


"  Hyrane  de  joie,  hymne  de  deliverance 
Montez  vers  PEternel ! " 

It  is  a  fine  piece  of  dramatic  characterization, 
which  is  followed  by  one  whose  serene  beauty  is 
heightened*  by  contrast.  Dalila  and  a  company  of 
singing  and  dancing  Philistine  women  come  in  bearing 
garlands  of  flowers.  Not  only  Samson's  senses,  our 
own  as  well,  are  ravished  by  the  delightful  music :  — 

Voici  le  printemps,  nous  portant  des  fleurs 
Pour  orner  le  front  des  guerriers  vainquers ! 
Melons  nos  accents  aux  parfums  des  roses 

A  peine  ecloses ! 
Avec  1'oiseau  chantons,  mes  soeurs ! 

SOPRANO 


n  u        dolciss. 

r  P»u.ff  K  srr~i  

|  J  ^—  frr-4  fs  , 

yK^tf'  ~    |  \—         -f- 

d  —  i 

—  1  f  —  :f- 

~       ~m  —  =T~ 

(fo  ^     *     J  «  —  E 

a  —  ? 

—  r  —  »  —  r— 

r  r  f  c  r  *      r-^-r-p 

Now  Spring's  generous  hand,Brings  flowers  to  the     land. 
CONTRALTO 
dolciss. 

r\  U>  n           '^                                                                                              , 

1  —  J  F>  —  M 

r\   i 

—  1  —  • 

«       9      A 

<5-'       *^     - 

r 


Now  Spring's  generous  hand,Brings  flowers  to  the    land. 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  69 

Dalila  is  here  and  it  is  become  necessary  to  say 
something  of  her,  having  said  so  much  about  the 
man  whose  destruction  she  accomplished.  Let  the 
ingenious  and  erudite  Philip  Hale  introduce  her: 
"Was  Delilah  a  patriotic  woman,  to  be  ranked  with 
Jael  and  Judith,  or  was  she  merely  a  courtesan,  as 
certain  opera  singers  who  impersonate  her  in  the 
opera  seem  to  think  ?  E.  Meier  says  that  the  word 
' Delilah'  means  'the  faithless  one.'  Ewald  trans- 
lates it  'traitress/  and  so  does  Ranke.  Knobel 
characterizes  her  as  die  Zarte,  which  means  tender, 
delicate,  but  also  subtle.  Lange  is  sure  that  she 
was  a  weaver  woman,  if  not  an  out-and-out  'zonah.' 
There  are  other  Germans  who  think  the  word  is 
akin  to  the  verb  einlullen,  to  lull  asleep.  Some 
liken  it  to  the  Arabic  dalildh,  a  woman  who  mis- 
guides, a  bawd.  See  in  'The  Thousand  Nights  and 
a  Night '  the  speech  of  the  damsel  to  Aziz :  '  If 
thou  marry  me  thou  wilt  at  least  be  safe  from  the 
daughter  of  Dalilah,  the  Wily  One.'  Also  'The 
Rogueries  of  Dalilah,  the  Crafty,  and  her  daughter, 
Zayrah,  the  Coney  Catcher." 

We  are  directly  concerned  here  with  the  Dalila  of 
the  opera,  but  Mr.  Hale  invites  us  to  an  excursion 
which  offers  a  pleasant  occupation  for  a  brief  while, 
and  we  cheerfully  go  with  him.  The  Biblical 
Delilah  is  a  vague  figure,  except  in  two  respects : 
She  is  a  woman  of  such  charms  that  she  wins  the 
love  of  Samson,  and  such  guile  and  cupidity  that 
she  plays  upon  his  passion  and  betrays  him  to  the 


70  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

lords  of  the  Philistines  for  pay.  The  Bible  knows 
nothing  of  her  patriotism,  nor  does  the  sacred  his- 
torian give  her  the  title  of  Samson's  wife,  though  it 
has  long  been  the  custom  of  Biblical  commentators 
to  speak  of  her  in  this  relation.  St.  Chrysostom 
set  the  fashion  and  Milton  followed  it :  — 

But  who  is  this  ?    What  thing  of  sea  or  land  — 

Female  of  sex  it  seems  — 

That,  so  bedeck'd,  ornate  and  gay 

Comes  this  way  sailing 

Like  a  stately  ship 

Of  Tarsus,  bound  for  the  isles 

Of  Javan  or  Gadire, 

With  all  her  bravery  on,  and  tackle  trim, 

Sails  fill'd  and  streamers  waving, 

Courted  by  all  the  winds  that  hold  them  play ; 

An  amber  scent  of  odorous  perfume 

Her  harbinger,  a  damsel  train  behind  ? 

Some  rich  Philistian  matron  she  may  seem ; 

And  now,  at  nearer  view,  no  other  certain 

Than  Dalila,  thy  wife. 

It  cannot  be  without  significance  that  the  author 
of  the  story  in  the  Book  of  Judges  speaks  in  a  dif- 
ferent way  of  each  of  the  three  women  who  play 
a  part  in  the  tragedy  of  Samson's  life.  The  woman 
who  lived  among  the  vineyards  of  Timnath,  whose 
murder  Samson  avenged,  was  his  wife.  She  was 
a  Philistine,  but  Samson  married  her  according  to 
the  conventional  manner  of  the  time  and,  also 
according  to  the  manner  of  the  time,  she  kept  her 
home  with  her  parents  after  her  marriage.  Where- 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA'Y  71 

fore  she  has  gotten  her  name  in  the  good  books  of 
the  sociological  philosophers  who  uphold  the  mat- 
ronymic  theory  touching  early  society.  The  woman 
of  Gaza  whom  Samson  visited  what  time  he  con- 
founded his  would-be  captors  by  carrying  off  the 
doors  of  the  gates  of  the  city  was  curtly  "an  harlot." 
Of  the  third  woman  it  is  said  only  that  it  came  to> 
pass  that  Samson  "loved  a  woman  in  the  Valley 
of  Sorek,  whose  name  was  Delilah."  Thereupon 
follows  the  story  of  her  bribery  by  the  lords  of  the 
Philistines  and  her  betrayal  of  her  lover.  Evi- 
dently a  licentious  woman  who  could  not  aspire 
even  to  the  merit  of  the  heroine  of  Dekker's  play. 

Milton  not  only  accepted  the  theory  of  her  wife- 
hood,  but  also  attributed  patriotic  motives  to  her. 
She  knew  that  her  name  would  be  defamed  "is 
Dan,  in  Judah  and  the  bordering  tribes." 

But  in  my  country,  where  I  most  desire, 
In  Eeron,  Gaza,  Asdod  and  in  Gath, 
I  shall  be  nam'd  among  the  famousest 
Of  women,  sung  at  solemn  festivals, 
Living  and  dead  recorded,  who  to  save 
Her  country  from  a  fierce  destroyer,  chose 
Above  the  faith  of  wedlock  bands ;  my  tomb 
With  odours  visited  and  annual  flowers ; 
Not  less  renown'd  than  in  Mount  Ephraim 
Jael,  who,  with  inhospitable  guile, 
Smote  Sisera  sleeping. 

In  the  scene  before  us  Dalila  is  wholly  and  simply 
ajsiren,  a  seductress  who  plays  upon  the  known  love 


72  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

of  Samson  from  motives  which  are  not  disclosed. 
As  yet  one  may  imagine  her  moved  by  a  genuine 
passion.  She  turns  her  lustrous  black  eyes  upon 
him  as  she  hails  him  a  double  victor  over  his  foes 
and  her  heart,  and  invites  him  to  rest  from  his  arms 
in  her  embraces  in  the  fair  valley  of  Sorek.  Temp- 
tation seizes  upon  the  soul  of  Samson.  He  prays 
God  to  make  him  steadfast ;  but  she  winds  her  toils 
the  tighter:  It  is  for  him  that  she  has  bound  a 
coronet  of  purple  grapes  upon  her  forehead  and 
entwined  the  rose  of  Sharon  in  her  ebon  tresses/ 
An  Old  Hebrew  warns  against  the  temptress  and 
Samson  agonizingly  invokes  a  veil  over  the  beauty 
that  has  enchained  him. 

"Extinguish  the  fires  of  those  eyes  which  enslave 
me."  —  thus  he. 

"Sweet  is  the  lily  of  the  valley,  pleasant  the 
juices  of  mandragora,  but  sweeter  and  more  pleasant 
are  my  kisses  ! "  —  thus  she. 

The  Old  Hebrew  warns  again :  "If  thou  give  ear 
to  her  honeyed  phrases,  my  son,  curses  will  alight 
on  thee  which  no  tears  that  thou  may'st  weep 
will  ever  efface." 

But  still  the  siren  song  rings  in  his  ears.  The 
maidens  who  had  come  upon  the  scene  with  Dalila 
(are  they  priestesses  of  Dagon?)  dance,  swinging 
then-  floral  garlands  seductively  before  the  eyes  of 
Samson  and  his  followers.  The  hero  tries  to  avoid 
the  glances  which  Dalila,  joining  in  the  dance, 
throws  upon  him.  It  is  in  vain;  his  eyes  follow 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA" 


73 


her  through  all  the  voluptuous  postures  and  move* 
ments  of  the  dance. 


Allegretto  (J=103) 


And  Dalila  sings  "Printemps  qui  commence" — • 
a  song  often  heard  in  concert-rooms,  but  not  so 
often  as  the  air  with  which  the  love-duet  in  the 
second  act  reaches  its  culmination,  which  is  popu- 
larly held  also  to  mark  the  climax  of  the  opera. 
That  song  is  wondrously  insinuating  in  its  charm; 
it  pulsates  with  passion,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  conceive  that  its  sentiments  are 
feigned,  but  this  is  lovelier  in  its  fresh,  suave,  grace- 
ful, and  healthy  beauty :  — 


doke 


i^ 


The  Spring    with  her  dow  -  er  of     bird      and    of 


flow    -    er,        brings  hope      in    her  train. 


74 

As  Dalila  leaves  the  scene  her  voice  and  eyes 
repeat  their  lure,  while  Samson's  looks  and  acts 
betray  the  trouble  of  his  soul. 

It  is  not  until  we  see  and  hear  Dalila  in  the  second 
act  that  she  is  revealed  to  us  in  her  true  character. 
Not  till  now  does  she  disclose  the  motives  of  her 
conduct  toward  her  lover.  Night  is  falling  in  the 
valley  of  Sorek,  the  vale  which  lies  between  the  hill 
country  which  the  Israelites  entered  from  the  East, 
and  the  coast  land  which  the  Philistines,  supposedly 
an  island  people,  invaded  from  the  West.  Dalila , 
gorgeously  apparelled,  is  sitting  on  a  rock  near  the 
portico  of  her  house.  The  strings  of  the  orchestra 
murmur  and  the  chromatic  figure  which  we  shall 
hear  again  in  her  love-song  coos  in  the  wood-winds : 


She  awaits  him  whom  passion  has  made  her 
slave  in  full  confidence  of  her  hold  upon  him. 

Samson,  recherchant  ma  presence, 
Ce  soir  doit  venir  en  ces  Lieux. 
Voici  Theure  de  la  vengeance 
Qui  doit  satisfaire  nos  dieux ! 

Amour  !  viens  aider  ma  faiblesse ! 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA" 


75 


The  vengeance  of  her  gods  shall  be  glutted;  it 
is  to  that  end  she  invokes  the  power  of  love  to 
strengthen  her  weakness.  A  passion  like  his  will 
not  down  —  that  she  knows.  To  her  comes  the 
High  Priest:  Samson's  strength,  he  says,  is  super- 
natural and  flows  from  a  vow  with  which  he  was 
consecrated  to  effect  the  glory  of  Israel.  Once  while 
he  lay  in  her  arms  that  strength  had  deserted  him, 
but  now,  it  is  said,  he  flouts  her  love  and  doubts  his 
own  passion.  There  is  no  need  to  try  to  awaken 


F3R 

=±= 

jealousy  in  the  heart  of  Dalila;  she  hates  Samson 
more  bitterly  than  the  leader  of  his  enemies.  She 
is  not  mercenary,  like  the  Biblical  woman;  she 
scorns  the  promise  of  riches  which  the  High  Priest 
offers  so  she  obtain  the  secret  of  the  Hebrew's 
strength.  Thrice  had  she  essayed  to  learn  that 
secret  and  thrice  had  he  set  her  spell  at  naught. 
Now  she  will  assail  him  with  tears  —  a  woman's 
weapon. 

The  rumblings  of  thunder  are  heard ;  the  scene  is 
lit  up   by  flashes   of  lightning.    Running  before 


76  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

the  storm,  which  is  only  a  precursor  and  a  symbol 
of  the  tempest  which  is  soon  to  rend  his  soul,  Sam- 
son comes.  Dalila  upbraids  her  lover,  rebukes  his 
fears,  protests  her  grief.  Samson  cannot  with- 
stand her  tears.  He  confesses  his  love,  but  he 
must  obey  the  will  of  a  higher  power.  "  What  god 
is  mightier  than  Love?"  Let  him  but  doubt 
her  constancy  and  she  will  die.  And  she  plays  her 
trump  card:  "Mon  coeur  s'ouvre  &  ta  voix,"  while 
the  fluttering  strings  and  cooing  wood-winds  insinu- 
ate themselves  into  the  crevices  of  Samson's  moral 
harness  and  loosen  the  rivets  that  hold  it  together :  — 


dolciss.  e  cantdbile  assai 


Herein  lies  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of 
music:  it  must  fain  be  truthful.  Dalila' 's  words 
may  be  hypocritical,  but  the  music  speaks  the 
speech  of  genuine  passion.  Not  until  we  hear 
the  refrain  echoed  mockingly  in  the  last  scene  of 


"SAMSON  ET  DALILA"  77 

the  drama  can  we  believe  that  the  passion  hymned 
in  this  song  is  feigned.  And  we  almost  deplore 
that  the  composer  put  it  to  such  disgraceful  use. 
Samson  hears  the  voice  of  his  God  in  the  growing 
Btorm  and  again  hesitates.  The  storm  bursts 
as  Dalila  shrieks  out  the  hate  that  fills  her  and  runs 
toward  her  dwelling. 

Beethoven  sought  to  suggest  external  as  well 
as  internal  peace  in  the  "Dona  nobis"  of  his  Mass 
in  D  by  mingling  the  sounds  of  war  with  the  prayer 
for  peace ;  Saint-Saens  pictures  the  storm  in  nature 
and  in  Samson's  soul  by  the  music  which  accom- 
panies the  hero  as  he  raises  his  hands  mutely  in 
prayer;  then  follows  the  temptress  with  faltering 
steps  and  enters  her  dwelling.  The  tempest  reaches 
its  climax;  Dalila  appears  at  the  window  with  a 
shout  to  the  waiting  Philistine  soldiery  below.  The 
Voice  of  Samson  cuts  through  the  stormy  night: 
"Tiahison!" 

Act  III.  —  First  scene :  A  prison  in  Gaza.  Dam- 
son, shorn  of  his  flowing  locks,  which  as  a  Nazarite 
he  had  vowed  should  never  be  touched  by  shears, 
labors  at  the  mill.  He  has  been  robbed  of  his 
eyes  and  darkness  has  settled  down  upon  him ;  dark- 
ness, too,  upon  the  people  whom  his  momentary 
weakness  had  given  back  into  slavery. 

"Total  eclipse!"  Saint-Saens  has  won  our  ad- 
miration for  the  solemn  dignity  with  which  he  has 
invested  the  penitent  confession  of  the  blind  hero. 
But  who  shall  hymn  the  blindness  of  Manoah's 


78 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


son  after  Milton  and  Handel?  From  a  crowd  of 
captive  Hebrews  outside  the  prison  walls  come 
taunting  accusations,  mingled  with  supplications 
to  God.  We  recognize  again  the  national  mood  of 
the  psalmody  of  the  first  act.  The  entire  scene 
is  finely  conceived.  It  is  dramatic  in  a  lofty  sense, 
for  its  action  plays  on  the  stage  of  the  heart.  Sam- 
son, contrite,  humble,  broken  in  spirit,  with  a  prayer 
for  his  people's  deliverance,  is  led  away  to  be  made 
sport  of  in  the  temple  of  Dagon.  There,  before 
the  statue  of  the  god,  grouped  among  the  col- 
umns and  before  the  altar  the  High  Priest  and 
the  lords  of  the  Philistines.  Dalila,  too,  with  maid- 
ens clad  for  the  lascivious  dance,  and  the  multi- 
tude of  Philistia.  The  women's  choral  song  to 
spring  which  charmed  us  in  the  first  act  is  echoed  by 
mixed  voices.  The  ballet  which  follows  is  a  pret- 
tily exotic  one,  with  an  introductory  cadence  marked 
by  the  Oriental  scale,  out  of  which  the  second  dance 
melody  is  constructed  —  a  scale  which  has  the  pecul- 
iarity of  an  interval  composed  of  three  semitones, 
and  which  we  know  from  the  song  of  the  priestesses 
in  Verdi's  "Aida":  — 


con  malinconia 


'SAMSON  ET  DALILA." 


79 


The  High  Priest  makes  mock  of  the  Judge  of 
Israel :  Let  him  empty  the  wine  cup  and  sing  the 
praise  of  his  vanquisher !  Dalila,  in  the  pride  of 
her  triumph,  tauntingly  tells  him  how  simulated 
love  had  been  made  to  serve  her  gods,  her  hate,  and 
her  nation.  /Samson  answers  only  in  contrite  prayer. 
Together  in  canonic  imitation  (the  erudite  form 
does  not  offend,  but  only  gives  dignity  to  the  scene) 
priest  and  siren  offer  a  libation  on  the  altar  of  the 
Fish  god. 


231 


i 


i 


f=^ 


Da  -  gem,  be    ev-er  prais'd  !   Da  -  gem,  be  ev  -  er  prais'd  ! 

mf 


v1- 


P 


^ 


Da   -   gou,  be  ev  -  er  prais'd  1  Da  -  gon  be 


The  flames  flash  upward  from  the  altar.  Now 
a  supreme  act  of  insolent  impiety;  Samson,  too, 
shall  sacrifice  to  Dagon.  A  boy  is  told  to  lead  him 
where  all  can  witness  his  humiliation.  Samson 
feels  that  the  time  for  retribution  upon  his  enemies 


80  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

is  come.  He  asks  to  be  led  between  the  marble 
pillars  that  support  the  roof  of  the  temple.  Priests 
and  people,  the  traitress  and  her  dancing  women, 
the  lords  of  the  Philistines,  the  rout  of  banqueters 
and  worshippers  —  all  hymn  the  praise  of  Dagon. 
A  brief  supplication  to  Israel's  God  — 

"And  Samson  took  hold. of  the  two  middle  pillars 
upon  which  the  house  stood  and  on  which  it  was  borne 
up,  of  the  one  with  his  right  hand  and  of  the  other  with 
his  left. 

"And  Samson  said,  'Let  me  die  with  the  Philistines/ 
And  he  bowed  himself  with  all  his  might :  and  the  house 
fell  upon  the  lords  and  upon  all  the  people  that  were 
therein.  So  the  dead  which  he  slew  at  his  death  were 
more  than  they  which  he  slew  in  his  life." 


CHAPTER  V 
"DIE  KONIGIN  VON  SABA" 

THE  most  obvious  reason  why  Goldmark's  "K5- 
nigin  von  Saba"  should  be  seen  and  heard  with 
pleasure  lies  in  its  book  and  scenic  investiture. 
Thoughtfully  considered  the  book  is  not  one  of 
great  worth,  but  in  the  handling  of  things  which  give 
pleasure  to  the  superficial  observer  it  is  admirable. 
In  the  first  place  it  presents  a  dramatic  story  which 
is  rational;  which  strongly  enlists  the  interest  if 
not  the  sympathies  of  the  observer;  which  is  un- 
hackneyed ;  which  abounds  with  imposing  spectacles 
with  which  the  imagination  of  childhood  already  had 
made  play,  that  are  not  only  intrinsically  brilliant  and 
fascinating  but  occur  as  necessary  adjuncts  of  the 
story.  Viewed  from  its  ethical  side  and  considered 
with  reference  to  the  sources  whence  its  elements 
sprang,  it  falls  under  a  considerable  measure  of  con- 
demnation, as  will  more  plainly  appear  after  its 
incidents  have  been  rehearsed. 

The  title  of  the  opera  indicates  that  the  Biblical 
story  of  the  visit  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  to  Solomon 
had  been  drawn  on  for  the  plot.  This  is  true,  but 
only  in  a  slight  degree.  Sheba's  Queen  comes  to 

G  81 


82  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Solomon  in  the  opera,  but  that  is  the  end  of  the 
draft  on  the  Scriptural  legend  so  far  as  she  is  con- 
cerned. Sulamith,  who  figures  in  the  drama,  owes 
her  name  to  the  Canticles,  from  which  it  was  bor- 
rowed by  the  librettist,  but  no  element  of  her  char- 
acter nor  any  of  the  incidents  in  which  she  is  involved. 
The  "Song  of  Songs,  which  is  Solomon's"  contributes 
a  few  lines  of  poetry  to  the  book,  and  a  ritualistic 
service  which  is  celebrated  in  the  temple  finds  its 
original  text  in  the  opening  verses  of  Psalms  Ixvii 
and  cxvii,  but  with  this  I  have  enumerated  all  that 
the  opera  owes  to  the  Bible.  It  is  not  a  Biblical 
opera,  in  the  degree  that  Me*huTs  "Joseph,"  Ros- 
sini's "Moses,"  or  Rubinstein's  "Maccabees"  is 
Biblical,  to  say  nothing  of  Saint-Saens's  "  Samson  et 
Dalila."  Solomon's  magnificent  reign  and  marvel- 
lous wisdom,  which  contribute  a  few  factors  to  the 
sum  of  the  production,  belong  to  profane  as  well  as 
to  sacred  history  and  it  will  be  found  most  agreeable 
to  deeply  rooted  preconceptions  to  think  of  some 
other  than  the  Scriptural  Solomon  as  the  prototype 
of  the  Solomon  of  Mosenthal  and  Goldmark,  who, 
at  the  best,  is  a  sorry  sort  of  sentimentalist.  The 
local  color  has  been  borrowed  from  the  old  story ; 
the  dramatic  motive  comes  plainly  from  Wagner's 
"Tannhauser." 

Assad,  a  favorite  courtier,  is  sent  by  Solomon  to 
extend  greetings  and  a  welcome  to  the  Queen  of 
Sheba,  who  is  on  the  way  to  visit  the  king,  whose 
fame  for  wealth  and  wisdom  has  reached  her  ears 


"DIE  KONIGIN  VON  SABA"  88 

in  far  Arabia.  Assad  is  the  type  (though  a  milk-and- 
watery  one,  it  must  be  confessed)  of  manhood 
struggling  between  the  things  that  are  of  the  earth 
and  the  things  which  are  of  heaven  —  between  a 
gross,  sensual  passion  and  a  pure,  exalting  love.  He 
is  betrothed  to  Sulamith,  the  daughter  of  the  High 
Priest  of  the  temple,  who  awaits  his  return  from 
Solomon's  palace  and  leads  her  companions  in  songs 
of  gladness.  Assad  meets  the  Queen  at  Gath,  per- 
forms his  mission,  and  sets  out  to  return,  but,  ex- 
hausted by  the  heat  of  the  day,  enters  the  forest  on 
Mount  Lebanon  and  lies  down  on  a  bank  of  moss  to 
rest.  There  the  sound  of  plashing  waters  arrests  his 
ear.  He  seeks  the  cause  of  the  grateful  noise  and 
comes  upon  a  transportingly  beautiful  woman  bath- 
ing. The  nymph,  finding  herself  observed,  does  not, 
like  another  Diana,  cause  the  death  of  her  admirer, 
but  discloses  herself  to  be  a  veritable  Wagnerian 
Venus.  She  clips  him  in  her  arms  and  he  falls  at 
her  feet ;  but  a  reed  rustles  and  the  charmer  flees. 
These  incidents  we  do  not  see.  They  precede  the 
opening  of  the  opera,  and  we  learn  of  them  from 
Assad's  narration.  Assad  returns  to  Jerusalem, 
where,  conscience  stricken,  he  seeks  to  avoid  his 
chaste  bride.  To  Solomon,  however,  he  confesses 
his  adventure,  and  the  king  sets  the  morrow  as  his 
wedding  day  with  Sulamith. 

The  Queen  of  Sheba  arrives,  and  when  she  raises 
her  veil,  ostensibly  to  show  unto  Solomon  the  first 
view  of  her  features  that  mortal  man  has  ever  had 


84  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

vouchsafed  him,  Assad  recognizes  the  heroine  of  his 
adventure  in  the  woods  on  Lebanon.  His  mind 
is  in  a  maze;  bewilderingly  he  addresses  her,  and 
haughtily  he  is  repulsed.  But  the  woman  has  felt 
the  dart  no  less  than  Assad;  she  seeks  him  at  night 
in  the  palace  garden,  whither  she  had  gone  to  brood 
over  her  love  and  the  loss  which  threatens  her  on  the 
morrow,  and  the  luring  song  of  her  slave  draws  him 
again  into  her  arms. 

Before  the  altar  in  the  temple,  just  as  Assad  is 
about  to  pronounce  the  words  which  are  to  bind  him 
to  Sulamith,  she  confronts  him  again,  on  the  specious 
pretext  that  she  brings  gifts  for  the  bride.  Assad 
again  addresses  her.  Again  he  is  denied.  Delirium 
seizes  upon  his  brain ;  he  loudly  proclaims  the  Queen 
as  the  goddess  of  his  devotion.  The  people  are 
panic-stricken  at  the  sacrilege  and  rush  from  the 
temple ;  the  priests  cry  anathema ;  Sulamith  be- 
moans her  fate ;  Solomon  essays  words  of  comfort ,; 
the  High  Priest  intercedes  with  heaven ;  the  soldiery, 
led  by  Baal-Hanan,  overseer  of  the  palace,  enter 
to  lead  the  profaner  to  death.  Now  Solomon  claims 
the  right  to  fix  his  punishment.  The  Queen,  fearful 
that  her  prey  may  escape  her,  begs  his  life  as  a  boon, 
but  Solomon  rejects  her  appeal ;  Assad  must  work  out 
his  salvation  by  overcoming  temptation  and  master- 
ing  his  wicked  passion.  Sulamith  approaches  amid 
the  wailings  of  her  companions.  She  is  about  to  enter 
a  retreat  on  the  edge  of  the  Syrian  desert,  but  she, 
too,  prays  for  the  life  of  Assad.  Solomon,  in  a 


"DIE  KONIGIN  VON  SABA"  85 

prophetic  ecstasy,  foretells  Assad's  deliverance  from 
sin  and  in  a  vision  sees  a  meeting  between  him  and 
his  pure  love  under  a  palm  tree  in  the  desert.  Assad 
is  banished  to  the  sandy  waste;  there  a  simoom 
sweeps  down  upon  him;  he  falls  at  the  foot  of  a 
lonely  palm  to  die,  after  calling  on  Sulamith  with  his 
fleeting  breath.  She  comes  with  her  wailing  maidens, 
sees  the  fulfilment  of  Solomon's  prophecy,  and  Assad 
dies  in  her  arms.  "Thy  beloved  is  thine,  in  love's 
eternal  realm,"  sing  the  maidens,  while  a  mirage 
shows  the  wicked  Queen,  with  her  caravan  of  camels 
and  elephants,  returning  to  her  home. 

The  parallel  between  this  story  and  the  immeasur- 
ably more  poetical  and  beautiful  one  of  "Tann- 
hauser"  is  apparent  to  half  an  eye.  Sulamith  is 
Elizabeth,  the  Queen  is  Venus,  Assad  is  Tannhduser, 
Solomon  is  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach.  The  ethical 
force  of  the  drama  —  it  has  some,  though  very  little 
—  was  weakened  at  the  performances  at  the  Metro- 
politan Opera  House *  in  New  York  by  the  excision 

1  Goldmark's  opera  was  presented  for  the  first  time  in  Amer- 
ica at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  on  December  2,  1885. 
Cast :  Sulamith,  Fraulein  Lilli  Lehmann ;  die  Konigin  von  Saba, 
Frau  Kramer- Wiedl ;  Astaroth,  Fraulein  Marianne  Brandt; 
Solomon,  Herr  Adolph  Robinson;  Assad,  Herr  Stritt;  Der 
Hohe  Priester,  Herr  Emil  Fischer;  Baal-Hanan,  Herr-Alexi. 
Anton  Seidl  conducted,  and  the  opera  had  fifteen  representations 
in  the  season.  These  performances  were  in  the  original  Ger- 
man. On  April  3,  1888,  an  English  version  was  presented  at 
the  Academy  of  Music  by  the  National  Opera  Company,  then 
in  its  death  throes.  The  opera  was  revived  at  the  Metropoli- 
tan Opera  House  by  Mr.  Conried  in  the  season  1905-1906 
and  had  fire  performances. 


86  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

from  the  last  act  of  a  scene  in  which  the  Queen 
attempts  to  persuade  Assad  to  go  with  her  to  Arabia. 
Now  Assad  rises  superior  to  his  grosser  nature  and 
drives  the  temptress  away,  thus  performing  the 
saving  act  demanded  by  Solomon. 

Herr  Mosenthal,  who  made  the  libretto  of  "Die 
Konigin  von  Saba,"  treated  this  material,  not  with 
great  poetic  skill,  but  with  a  cunning  appreciation  of 
the  opportunities  which  it  offers  for  dramatic  effect. 
The  opera  opens  with  a  gorgeous  picture  of  the 
interior  of  Solomon's  palace,  decked  in  honor  of  the 
coming  guest.  There  is  an  air  of  joyous  expectancy 
over  everything.  Sulamith's  entrance  introduces 
the  element  of  female  charm  to  brighten  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  picture,  and  her  bridal  song  —  in  which 
the  refrain  is  an  excerpt  from  the  Canticles,  "Thy 
beloved  is  thine,  who  feeds  among  the  roses"  — 
enables  the  composer  to  indulge  his  strong  pre- 
dilection and  fecund  gift  for  Oriental  melody.  The 
action  hurries  to  a  thrilling  climax.  One  glittering 
pageant  treads  on  the  heels  of  another,  each  more 
gorgeous  and  resplendent  than  the  last,  until  the 
stage,  set  to  represent  a  fantastical  hall  with  a  be- 
wildering vista  of  carved  columns,  golden  lions,  and 
rich  draperies,  is  filled  with  such  a  kaleidoscopic  mass 
of  colors  and  groupings  as  only  an  Oriental  mind 
could  conceive.  Finally  all  the  preceding  strokes 
are  eclipsed  by  the  coming  of  the  Queen.  But  no 
time  is  lost ;  the  spectacle  does  not  make  the  action 
halt  for  a  moment.  Sheba  makes  her  gifts  and 


"DIE  KONIGIN  VON  SABA"  87 

uncovers  her  face,  and  at  once  we  are  confronted 
by  the  tragical  element,  and  the  action  rushes  on 
toward  its  legitimate  and  mournful  end. 

In  this  ingenious  blending  of  play  and  spectacle 
one  rare  opportunity  after  another  is  presented  to 
the  composer.  Sulamith's  epithalamium,  Assad's 
narrative,  the  choral  greeting  to  the  Queen,  the  fate- 
ful recognition  —  all  these  things  are  made  for  music 
of  the  inspiring,  swelling,  passionate  kind.  In 
the  second  act,  the  Queen's  monologue,  her  duet  with 
Assad,  and,  most  striking  of  all,  the  unaccompanied 
bit  of  singing  with  which  Astaroth  lures  Assad  into 
the  presence  of  the  Queen,  who  is  hiding  in  the 
shadow  of  broad-leaved  palms  behind  a  running 
fountain  —  a  melodic  phrase  saturated  with  the  mys- 
tical color  of  the  East  —  these  are  gifts  of  the  rarest 
kind  to  the  composer,  which  he  has  enriched  to  give 
them  in  turn  to  the  public.  That  relief  from  their 
stress  of  passion  is  necessary  is  not  forgotten,  but  is 
provided  in  the  ballet  music  and  the  solemn  cere- 
monial in  the  temple,  which  takes  place  amid  sur- 
roundings that  call  into  active  operation  one's  child- 
hood fancies  touching  the  sacred  fane  on  Mount 
Moriah  and  the  pompous  liturgical  functions  of 
which  it  was  the  theatre. 

Goldmark's  music  is  highly  spiced.  He  was  an 
eclectic,  and  his  first  aim  seems  to  have  been  to  give 
the  drama  a  tonal  investiture  which  should  be  in 
keeping  with  its  character,  external  as  well  as  in- 
ternal. At  times  his  music  rushes  along  like  a 


88  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

lava  stream  of  passion,  every  measure  pulsating 
with  eager,  excited,  and  exciting  life.  He  revels  in 
instrumental  color.  The  language  of  his  orchestra 
is  as  glowing  as  the  poetry  attributed  to  the  royal 
poet  whom  his  operatic  story  celebrates.  Many 
composers  before  him  made  use  of  Oriental  ca- 
dences, rhythms,  and  idioms,  but  to  none  do  they 
seem  to  have  come  so  like  native  language  as  to 
Goldmark.  It  is  romantic  music,  against  which 
the  strongest  objection  that  can  be  urged  is  that 
it  is  so  unvaryingly  stimulated  that  it  wearies  the 
mind  and  makes  the  listener  long  for  a  change  to 
a  fresher  and  healthier  musical  atmosphere. 


CHAPTER  VI 

«. 

"HERODIADE" 

IN  the  ballet  scene  of  Gounod's  most  popular 
opera  Mephistopheles  conjures  up  visions  of  Phryne, 
Lais,  Aspasia,  Cleopatra,  and  Helen  of  Troy  to  be- 
guile the  jaded  interest  of  Faust.  The  list  reads 
almost  like  a  catalogue  of  the  operas  of  Massenet 
whose  fine  talent  was  largely  given  to  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  famous  courtesans  of  the  ancient  world. 
With  the  addition  of  a  few  more  names  from  the 
roster  of  antiquity  (Thais,  Dalila,  and  Aphrodite), 
and  some  less  ancient  but  no  less  immoral  creatures 
of  modern  fancy,  like  Violetta,  Manon  Lescaut,  Zaza, 
and  Louise,  we  might  make  a  pretty  complete  list  of 
representatives  of  the  female  type  in  which  modern 
dramatists  and  composers  seem  to  think  the  interest 
of  humanity  centres. 

When  Massenet's  "Herodiade"  was  announced  as 
the  first  opera  to  be  given  at  the  Manhattan  Opera 
House  in  New  York  for  the  season  of  1909-1910  it 
looked  to  some  observers  as  if  the  dominant  note  of 
the  year  was  to  be  sounded  by  the  Scarlet  Woman ; 
but  the  representation  brought  a  revelation  and  a 
surprise.  The  names  of  the  principal  characters 

89 


90       A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

were  those  which  for  a  few  years  had  been  filling 
the  lyric  theatres  of  Germany  with  a  moral  stench ; 
but  their  bearers  in  Massenet's  opera  did  little  or 
nothing  that  was  especially  shocking  to  good  taste 
or  proper  morals.  Herod  was  a  love-sick  man  of 
lust,  who  gazed  with  longing  eyes  upon  the  physical 
charms  of  Salome  and  pleaded  for  her  smiles  like  any 
sentimental  milksop;  but  he  did  not  offer  her 
Capernaum  for  a  dance.  Salome  may  have  known 
how,  but  she  did  not  dance  for  either  half  a  kingdom 
or  the  whole  of  a  man's  head.  Instead,  though 
there  were  intimations  that  her  reputation  was  not 
all  that  a  good  maiden's  ought  to  be,  she  sang  pious 
hosannahs  and  waved  a  palm  branch  conspicuously 
in  honor  of  the  prophet  at  whose  head  she  had 
bowled  herself  in  the  desert,  the  public  streets,  and 
king's  palaces.  At  the  end  she  killed  herself  when 
she  found  that  the  vengeful  passion  of  Herodias  and 
the  jealous  hatred  of  Herod  had  compassed  the  death 
of  the  saintly  man  whom  she  had  loved.  Herodias 
was  a  wicked  woman,  no  doubt,  for  John  the  Baptist 
denounced  her  publicly  as  a  Jezebel,  but  her  jealousy 
of  Salome  had  reached  a  point  beyond  her  control 
before  she  learned  that  her  rival  was  her  own  daugh- 
ter whom  she  had  deserted  for  love  of  the  Tetrarch. 
As  for  John  the  Baptist  the  camel's  hair  with  which 
he  was  clothed  must  have  cost  as  pretty  a  penny  as 
any  of  the  modern  kind,  and  if  he  wore  a  girdle  of 
skins  about  his  loins  it  was  concealed  under  a  really 
regal  cloak.  He  was  a  voice;  but  not  one  crying 


"HERODIADE"  91 

in  the  wilderness.  He  was  in  fact  an  operatic  tenor 
comme  il  faut,  who  needed  only  to  be  shut  up  in  a 
subterranean  jail  with  the  young  woman  who  had 
pursued  him  up  hill  and  down  dale,  in  and  out  of 
season  to  make  love  to  her  in  the  most  approved 
fashion  of  the  Paris  Grand  Ope*ra. 

What  shall  we  think  of  the  morals  of  this  French 
opera,  after  we  have  seen  and  heard  that  com- 
pounded by  the  Englishman  Oscar  Wilde  and  the 
German  Richard  Strauss?  No  wonder  that  Eng- 
land's Lord  Chamberlain  asked  nothing  more  than 
an  elimination  of  the  Biblical  names  when  he  licensed 
a  performance  of  "Herodiade"  at  Covent  Garden. 
There  was  no  loss  of  dramatic  qualitiy  in  calling 
Herod,  Moriame,  and  Herodias,  Hesotade,  and  chang- 
ing the  scene  from  Jerusalem  to  Azoum  in  Ethiopia ; 
though  it  must  have  been  a  trifle  diverting  to  hear 
fair-skinned  Ethiopians  singing  $c/ima  Yisroel,  Adonai 
Elohenu  in  a  temple  which  could  only  be  that  of 
Jerusalem.  John  the  Baptist  was  only  Jean  in  the 
original  and  needed  not  to  be  changed,  and  Salome 
is  not  in  the  Bible,  though  Salome,  a  very  different 
woman  is  —  a  fact  which  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
seems  to  have  overlooked  when  he  changed  the  title 
of  the  opera  from  "He*rodiade"  to  "Salome*." 

Where  does  Salome  come  from,  anyway?  And 
where  did  she  get  her  chameleonlike  nature?  Was 
she  an  innocent  child,  as  Flaubert  represents  her, 
who  could  but  lisp  the  name  of  the  prophet  when 
her  mother  told  her  to  ask  for  his  head  ?  Had  she 


92  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

taken  dancing  lessons  from  one  of  the  women  of 
Cadiz  to  learn  to  dance  as  she  must  have  danced  to 
excite  such  lust  in  Herod?  Was  she  a  monster,  a 
worse  than  vampire  as  she  is  represented  by  Wilde 
and  Strauss?  Was  she  an  "Israelitish  grisette"  as 
Pougin  called  the  heroine  of  the  opera  which  it 
took  one  Italian  (Zanardini)  and  three  Frenchmen 
(Milliet,  Gre*mont,  and  Massenet)  to  concoct?  No 
wonder  that  the  brain  of  Saint-Saens  reeled  when  he 
went  to  hear  "He"rodiade"  at  its  first  performance 
in  Brussels  and  found  that  the  woman  whom  he  had 
looked  upon  as  a  type  of  lasciviousness  and  mop- 
strous  cruelty  had  become  metamorphosed  into  a 
penitent  Magdalen.  Read  the  plot  of  the  opera  and 
wonder ! 

Salome  is  a  maiden  in  search  of  her  mother  whom 
John  the  Baptist  finds  in  his  wanderings  and  be- 
friends. She  clings  to  him  when  he  becomes  a  po- 
litical as  well  as  a  religious  power  among  the  Jews, 
though  he  preaches  unctuously  to  her  touching  the 
vanity  of  earthly  love.  Herodias  demands  his 
death  of  her  husband  for  that  he  had  publicly  in- 
sulted her,  but  Herod  schemes  to  use  his  influence 
over  the  Jews  to  further  his  plan  to  become  a  real 
monarch  instead  of  a  Roman  Tetrarch.  But  when 
the  pro-consul  Vitellius  wins  the  support  of  the 
people  and  Herod  learns  that  the  maiden  who  has 
spurned  him  is  in  love  with  the  prophet,  he  decrees 
his  decapitation.  Salome,  baffled  in  her  effort  to 
save  her  lover,  attempts  to  kill  Herodias;  but  the 


"H3RODIADE"  93 

wicked  woman  discloses  herself  as  the  maiden's 
mother  and  Salome  turns  the  dagger  against  her  own 
breast. 

This  is  all  of  the  story  one  needs  to  know.  It  is 
richly  garnished  with  incident,  made  gorgeous  with 
pageantry,  and  clothed  with  much  charming  music. 
Melodies  which  may  be  echoes  of  synagogal  hymns 
of  great  antiquity  resound  in  the  walls  of  the  temple 
at  Jerusalem,  in  which  respect  the  opera  recalls 
Goldmark's  "Queen  of  Sheba."  Curved  Roman 
trumpets  mix  their  loud  clangors  with  the  instru- 
ments of  the  modern  brass  band  and  compel  us  to 
think  of  "Alda."  There  are  dances  of  Egyptians, 
Babylonians,  and  Phoenicians,  and  if  the  movements 
of  the  women  make  us  deplore  the  decay  of  the 
choreographic  art,  the  music  warms  us  almost  as 
much  as  the  Spanish  measures  in  "Le  Cid."  Eyes 
and  ears  are  deluged  with  Oriental  color  until  at  the 
last  there  comes  a  longing  for  the  graciously  insinuat- 
ing sentimentalities  of  which  the  earlier  Massenet 
was  a  master.  Two  of  the  opera's  airs  had  long  been 
familiar  to  the  public  from  performance  in  the  concert- 
room —  Salome's  "H  est  doux"  and  Herod's  "Vision 
fugitive"  —  and  they  stand  out  as  the  brightest 
jewels  in  the  opera's  musical  crown;  but  there  is 
much  else  which  woos  the  ear  delightfully,  for  Mas- 
senet was  ever  a  gracious  if  not  a  profound  melodist 
and  a  master  of  construction  and  theatrical  orches- 
tration. When  he  strives  for  massive  effects,  how- 
ever, he  sometimes  becomes  futile,  banal  where  he 


$4       A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

would  be  imposing;    but  he  commands  a  charm 
which  is  insinuating  in  its  moments  of  intimacy.1 

1  "Herodiade"  had  its  first  performance  in  New  York  (it 
had  previously  been  given  in  New  Orleans  by  the  French  Opera 
Company)  on  November  8,  1909.  The  cast  was  as  follows: 
Salome,  Lina  Cavalieri ;  Herodias,  Gerville-Reache ;  John, 
Charles  Dalmores ;  fferod,  Maurice  Renaud ;  Vitellius,  Crabb6 ; 
Phanuel,  M.  Vallier ;  High  Priest,  M.  Nicolay.  Musical  director, 
Henriques  de  la  Fuente. 


CHAPTER  VH 

"LAKME" 

Lakme  is  the  daughter  of  Nilakantha,  a  fanatical 
Brahmin  priest,  who  has  withdrawn  to  a  ruined 
temple  deep  in  an  Indian  forest.  In  his  retreat  the 
old  man  nurses  his  wrath  against  the  British  invader, 
prays  assiduously  to  Brahma  (thus  contributing  a 
fascinating  Oriental  mood  to  the  opening  of  the 
opera),  and  waits  for  the  time  to  come  when  he  shall 
be  able  to  wreak  his  revenge  on  the  despoilers  of  his 
country.  Lakme  sings  Oriental  duets  with  her  slave, 
Mallika: — 

Sous  le  dome  e"pais  ou  le  blanc  jasmin 

A  la  rose  s'assemble, 
Sur  la  rive  en  fleurs,  riant  au  matin 

Viens,  descendons  ensemble  — 

a  dreamy,  sense-ensnaring,  hypnotic  barcarole.  The 
opera  opens  well;  by  this  time  the  composer  has 
carried  us  deep  into  the  jungle.  The  Occident  is 
rude:  Gerald,  an  English  officer,  breaks  through  a 
bamboo  fence  and  makes  love  to  Lakme,  who,  though 
widely  separated  from  her  operatic  colleagues  from 
an  ethnological  point  of  view  like  Elsa  and  Senta, 

95 


96  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

< 

to  expedite  the  action  requites  the  passion  instanter. 
After  the  Englishman  is  gone  the  father  returns  and, 
with  an  Oriental's  cunning  which  does  him  credit, 
deduces  from  the  broken  fence  that  an  Englishman 
has  profaned  the  sacred  spot.  This  is  the  business 
of  Act  I.  In  Act  II  the  father,  disguised  as  a  beggar 
who  holds  a  dagger  ever  in  readiness,  and  his 
daughter,  disguised  as  a  street  singer,  visit  a  town 
market  in  search  of  the  profaner.  The  business 
is  not  to  Lakme's  taste,  but  it  is  not  for  the  like  of 
her  to  neglect  the  opportunity  offered  to  win  ap- 
plause with  the  legend  of  the  pariah's  daughter, 
with  its  tintinnabulatory  charm :  — 

Ou  va  la  jeune  Hindoue 

Fille  des  parias ; 
Quand  la  June  se  joue 

Dans  les  grand  mimosas? 

It  is  the  "Bell  song,"  which  has  tinkled  so  often 
in  our  concert-rooms.  Gerald  recognizes  the  singer 
despite  her  disguise;  and  Nilakantha  recognizes 
him  as  the  despoiler  of  the  hallowed  spot  in  which  he 
worships  and  incidentally  conceals  his  daughter. 
The  bloodthirsty  fanatic  observes  sententiously 
that  Brahma  has  smiled  and  cuts  short  Gerald's 
soliloquizing  with  a  dagger  thrust.  Lakme,  with 
the  help  of  a  male  slave,  removes  him  to  a  hut  con- 
cealed in  the  forest.  While  he  is  convalescing  the 
pair  sing  duets  and  exchange  vows  of  undying 
affection.  But  the  military  Briton,  who  has  invaded 
the  country  at  large,  must  needs  now  invade  also 


"LAKMfi"  97 

this  cosey  abode  of  love.  Frederick,  a  brother  officer, 
discovers  Gerald  and  informs  him  that  duty  calls 
(Britain  always  expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty, 
no  matter  what  the  consequences  to  him)  and  he 
must  march  with  his  regiment.  Frederick  has  hap- 
pened in  just  as  Lakme  is  gone  for  some  sacred  water 
in  which  she  and  Gerald  were  to  pledge  eternal  love 
for  each  other,  to  each  other.  But,  spurred  on  by 
Frederick  and  the  memory  that  "England  expects, 
etc.,"  Gerald  finds  the  call  of  the  fife  and  drum  more 
potent  than  the  voice  of  love.  Lakme,  psychologist  as 
well  as  botanist,  understands  the  struggle  which  now 
takes  place  in  Gerald's  soul,  and  relieves  him  of  his 
dilemma  by  crushing  a  poisonous  flower  (to  be  exact, 
\he  Datura  stramonium)  between  her  teeth,  dying,  it 
would  seem,  to  the  pious  delight  of  her  father,  who 
"ecstatically"  beholds  her  dwelling  with  Brahma. 

The  story,  borrowed  by  Gondinet  and  Gille  from 
the  little  romance  "Le  Mariage  de  Loti,"  is  worthless 
except  to  furnish  motives  for  tropical  scenery, 
Hindu  dresses,  and  Oriental  music.  Three  English 
ladies,  Ellen,  Rose,  and  Mrs.  Bentson,  figure  in  the 
play,  but  without  dramatic  purpose  except  to  take 
part  in  some  concerted  music.  They  are,  indeed,  so 
insignificant  in  all  other  respects  that  when  the  opera 
was  given  by  Miss  Van  Zandt  and  a  French  company 
in  London  for  the  first  time  in  1885  they  were 
omitted,  and  the  excision  was  commended  by  the 
critics,  who  knew  that  it  had  been  made.  The  con- 
versation of  the  women  is  all  of  the  veriest  stopgap 


98  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

character.  The  maidens,  Rose  and  Ellen,  are  Eng- 
lish ladies  visiting  in  the  East;  Mrs.  Bentson  is 
their  chaperon.  All  that  they  have  to  say  is  highly 
unimportant,  even  when  true.  "What  do  you  see, 
Frederick?"  "A  garden."  "And  you,  Gerald?" 
"Big,  beautiful  trees."  "Anybody  about?" 
"  Don't  know."  " Look  again."  "  That's  not  easy ; 
the  fence  shuts  out  the  view  within."  "Can't  you 
make  a  peephole  through  the  bamboo?"  "Girls, 
girls,  be  careful."  And  so  on  and  so  on  for  quantity. 
But  we  must  fill  three  acts,  and  ensemble  makes  its 
demands;  besides,  we  want  pretty  blondes  of  the 
English  type  to  put  in  contrast  with  the  dark-skinned 
Lakme  and  her  slave.  At  the  first  representation 
in  New  York  by  the  American  Opera  Company,  at 
the  Academy  of  Music,  on  March  1,  1886,  the  three 
women  were  permitted  to  interfere  with  what  there  is 
of  poetical  spirit  in  the  play,  and  their  conversation, 
like  that  of  the  other  principals,  was  uttered  in  the 
recitatives  composed  by  Delibes  to  take  the  place  of 
the  spoken  dialogue  used  at  the  Paris  Ope*ra  Comique, 
where  spoken  dialogue  is  traditional.  Theodore 
Thomas  conducted  the  Academy  performance,  at 
which  the  cast  was  as  follows:  Lakme,  Pauline 
L'Allemand;  Nilakantha,  Alonzo  E.  Stoddard; 
Gerald,  William  Candidus;  Frederick,  William  H. 
Lee ;  Ellen,  Charlotte  Walker ;  Rose,  Helen  Dudley 
Campbell;  Mrs.  Bentson,  May  Fielding;  Mattika, 
Jessie  Bartlett  Davis ;  Hadji,  William  H.  Fessenden. 
Few  operas  have  had  a  more  variegated  American 


"LAKMfi"  99 

history  than  "Lakme*."  It  was  quite  new  when  it 
was  first  heard  in  New  York,  but  it  had.  already  given 
rise  to  considerable  theatrical  gossip,  not  to  say 
scandal.  The  first  representation  took  place  at  the 
Opera  Comique  in  April,  1883,  with  Miss  Marie 
Van  Zandt,  an  American  girl,  the  daughter  of  a 
singer  who  had  been  actively  successful  in  English 
opera  in  New  York  and  London,  as  creator  of  the 
part  of  the  heroine.  The  opera  won  a  pretty  tri- 
umph and  so  did  the  singer.  At  once  there  was  talk 
of  a  New  York  performance.  Mme.  Etelka  Gerster 
studied  the  titular  r6le  with  M.  Delibes  and,  as  a 
member  of  Colonel  Mapleson's  company  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  confidently  expected  to  produce 
the  work  there  in  the  season  of  1883-1884,  the  first 
season  of  the  rivalry  between  the  Academy  and  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House,  which  had  just  opened 
its  doors ;  but  though  she  went  so  far  as  to  offer  to 
buy  the  American  performing  rights  from  Heugel, 
the  publisher,  nothing  came  of  it.  The  reason  was 
easily  guessed  by  those  who  knew  that  there  has  been, 
or  was  pending,  a  quarrel  between  Colonel  Mapleson 
and  M.  Heugel  concerning  the  unauthorized  use  by 
the  impresario  of  other  scores  owned  by  the  publisher. 
During  the  same  season,  however,  Miss  Emma 
Abbott  carried  a  version  (or  rather  a  perversion)  of 
the  opera,  for  which  the  orchestral  parts  had  been 
arranged  from  the  pianoforte  score,  into  the  cities  of 
the  West,  and  brought  down  a  deal  of  unmerited 
criticism  on  the  innocent  head  of  M.  Delibes.  In 


100      A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

the  season  of  1884-1885  Colonel  Mapleson  came  back 
to  the  Academy  with  vouchers  of  various  sorts  to 
back  up  a  promise  to  give  the  opera.  There  was  a 
human  voucher  in  the  person  of  Miss  Emma  Nevada, 
who  had  also  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  the  composer 
and  who  had  trunkfuls  and  trunkfuls  and  trunkfuls 
of  Oriental  dresses,  though  Lakme  needs  but  few. 
There  were  gorgeous  uniforms  for  the  British  soldiers, 
the  real  article,  each  scarlet  coat  and  every  top  boot 
having  a  piece  of  history  attached,  and  models  of  the 
scenery  which  any  doubting  Thomas  of  a  newspaper 
reporter  might  inspect  if  he  felt  so  disposed.  When 
the  redoubtable  colonel  came  it  was  to  be  only  a 
matter  of  a  week  or  so  before  the  opera  would  be  put 
on  the  stage  in  the  finest  of  styles;  it  was  still  a 
matter  of  a  week  or  so  when  the  Academy  season 
came  to  an  end.  When  Delibes's  exquisite  and  exotic 
music  reached  a  hearing  in  the  American  metropolis, 
it  was  sung  to  English  words,  and  the  most  emphatic 
success  achieved  in  performance  was  the  acrobatic 
one  of  Mme.  L'Allemand  as  she  rolled  down  some 
uncalled-for  pagoda  steps  in  the  death  scene. 

Mme.  Adelina  Patti  was  the  second  Lakme  heard 
in  New  York.  After  the  fifth  season  of  German 
opera  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  had  come  to 
an  end  in  the  spring  of  1890,  Messrs.  Abbey  and  Grau 
took  the  theatre  for  a  short  season  of  Italian  opera 
by  a  troupe  headed  by  Mme.  Patti.  In  that  season 
"Lakme""  was  sung  once  —  on  April  2,  1890.  Now 
came  an  opportunity  for  the  original  representative 


"LAKMfi"  101 

of  the  heroine.  Abbey  and  Grau  resumed  the  man- 
agement of  the  theatre  in  1891,  and  in  their  company 
was  Miss  Van  Zandt,  for  whom  the  opera  was  "re- 
vived" on  February  22.  Mr.  Abbey  had  great 
expectations,  but  they  were  disappointed.  For  the 
public  there  was  metal  more  attractive  than  Miss 
Van  Zandt  and  the  Hindu  opera  in  other  members 
of  the  company  and  other  operas.  It  was  the  year 
of  Emma  Eames's  coming  and  also  of  Jean  de 
Reszke's  (they  sang  together  in  Gounod's  "Romeo 
et  Juliette")  and  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  was  new. 
Then  Delibes's  opera  hibernated  in  New  York  for 
fifteen  years,  after  which  the  presence  in  the  Metro- 
politan company  of  Mme.  Marcella  Sembrich  led  to 
another  "revival."  (Operas  which  are  unperformed 
for  a  term  of  two  or  three  years  after  having  been 
once  included  in  the  repertory  are  "revived"  in  New 
York.)  It  was  sung  three  times  in  the  season  of 
1906-1907.  It  also  afforded  one  of  Mr.  Hammer- 
stein's  many  surprises  at  the  Manhattan  Opera 
House.  Five  days  before  the  close  of  his  last  season, 
on  March  21,  1910,  it  was  precipitated  on  the  stage 
("pitchforked"  is  the  popular  and  professional  term) 
to  give  Mme.  Tetrazzini  a  chance  to  sing  the  bell 
song.  Altogether  I  know  of  no  more  singular  history 
than  that  of  "Lakme"  in  New  York. 


Lakme  is  a  child  of  the  theatrical  boards,  who 
inherited  traits  from  several  predecessors,  the  strong- 


102  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

est  being  those  deriving  from  Aida  and  Selika.  Like 
the  former,  she  loves  a  man  whom  her  father  believes 
to  be  the  arch  enemy  of  his  native  land,  and,  like  her, 
she  is  the  means  of  betraying  him  into  the  hands  of 
the  avenger.  Like  the  heroine  of  Meyerbeer's  post- 
humous opera,  she  has  a  fatal  acquaintance  with 
tropical  botany  and  uses  her  knowledge  to  her  own 
destruction.  Her  scientific  attainments  are  on  about 
the  same  plane  as  her  amiability,  her  abnormal 
sense  of  filial  duty,  and  her  musical  accomplishments. 
She  loves  a  man  whom  her  father  wishes  her  to  lure 
to  his  death  by  her  singing,  and  she  sings  entrancingly 
enough  to  bring  about  the  meeting  between  her 
lover's  back  and  her  father's  knife.  That  she  does 
not  warble  herself  into  the  position  of  particeps 
criminis  in  a  murder  she  owes  only  to  the  bungling 
of  the  old  man.  Having  done  this,  however,  she 
turns  physician  and  nurse  and  brings  the  wounded 
man  back  to  health,  thus  sacrificing  her  love  to  the 
duty  which  her  lover  thinks  he  owes  to  the  invaders 
of  her  country  and  oppressors  of  her  people.  After 
this  she  makes  the  fatal  application  of  her  botanical 
knowledge.  Such  things  come  about  when  one  goes 
to  India  for  an  operatic  heroine. 

The  feature  of  the  libretto  which  Delibes  has  used 
to  the  best  purpose  is  its  local  color.  His  music  is 
saturated  with  the  languorous  spirit  of  the  East. 
Half  a  dozen  of  the  melodies  are  lovely  inventions, 
of  marked  originality  in  both  matter  and  treatment, 
and  the  first  half  hour  of  the  opera  is  apt  to  take  one's 


"LAKMfi"  103 

fancy  completely  captive.  The  drawback  lies  in 
the  oppressive  weariness  which  succeeds  the  first 
trance,  and  is  brought  on  by  the  monotonous  char- 
acter of  the  music.  After  an  hour  of  "Lakme""  one 
yearns  for  a  few  crashing  chords  of  C  major  as  a 
person  enduring  suffocation  longs  for  a  gush  of  fresh 
air.  The  music  first  grows  monotonous,  then 
wearies.  Delibes's  lyrical  moments  show  the  most 
numerous  indications  of  beauty ;  dramatic  life  and 
energy  are  absent  from  the  score.  In  the  second 
act  he  moves  his  listeners  only  once  —  with  the 
attempted  repetition  of  the  bell  song  after  Lakme  has 
recognized  her  lover.  The  odor  of  the  poppy  invites 
to  drowsy  enjoyment  in  the  beginning,  and  the  first 
act  is  far  and  away  the  most  gratifying  in  the  opera, 
musically  as  well  as  scenically.  It  would  be  so  if  it 
contained  only  Lakm&'s  song  "Pourquoi  dans  les 
grands  bois,"  the  exquisite  barcarole  —  a  veritable 
treasure  trove  for  the  composer,  who  used  its  melody 
dramatically  throughout  the  work  —  and  Gerald's 
air,  "Fantaisie  aux  divins  mensonges."  Real  depth 
will  be  looked  for  in  vain  in  this  opera ;  superficial 
loveliness  is  apparent  on  at  least  half  its  pages. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"PAGLIACCl" 

FOR  a  quarter  of  a  century  "Cavalleria  rusticana" 
and  "Pagliacci"  have  been  the  Castor  and  Pollux 
of  the  operatic  theatres  of  Europe  and  America. 
Together  they  have  joined  the  hunt  of  venturesome 
impresarios  for  that  Calydonian  boar,  success; 
together  they  have  lighted  the  way  through  seasons 
of  tempestuous  stress  and  storm.  Of  recent  years 
at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  in  New  York 
efforts  have  been  made  to  divorce  them  and  to  find 
associates  for  one  or  the  other,  since  neither  is  suffi- 
cient in  time  for  an  evening's  entertainment;  but 
they  refuse  to  be  put  asunder  as  steadfastly  as  did 
the  twin  brothers  of  Helen  and  Clytemnestra.  There 
has  been  no  operatic  Zeus  powerful  enough  to  sep- 
arate and  alternate  their  existences  even  for  a  day ; 
and  though  blase"  critics  will  continue  to  rail  at  the 
"double  bill"  as  they  have  done  for  two  decades  or 
more,  the  two  fierce  little  dramas  will  "sit  shining 
on  the  sails"  of  many  a  managerial  ship  and  bring 
it  safe  to  haven  for  many  a  year  to  come. 

Twins  the  operas  are  in  spirit;  twins  in  their 
capacity  as  supreme  representatives  of  verismo; 

104 


"PAGLIACCI"  10* 

twins  in  the  fitness  of  their  association ;  but  twins 
they  are  not  in  respect  of  parentage  or  age.  "  Caval- 
leria  rusticana"  is  two  years  older  than  "Pagliacci" 
and  as  truly  its  progenitor  as  Weber's  operas  were  the 
progenitors  of  Wagner's.  They  are  the  offspring  of 
the  same  artistic  movement,  and  it  was  the  phe- 


nomenal  success  of  Mascagni's  opera  which  was  the 
spur  that  drove  Leoncavallo  to  write  his.  When 
"Cavalleria  rusticana"  appeared  on  the  scene,  two 
generations  of  opera-goers  had  passed  away  without 
experiencing  anything  like  the  sensation  caused 
by  this  opera.  They  had  witnessed  the  production, 
indeed,  of  great  masterpieces,  which  it  would  be 


106  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

almost  sacrilegious  to  mention  in  the  same  breath 
with  Mascagni's  turbulent  and  torrential  tragedy, 
but  these  works  were  the  productions  of  mature 
masters,  from  whom  things  monumental  and  lasting 
were  expected  as  a  matter  of  course ;  men  like  Wag- 
ner and  Verdi.  The  generations  had  also  seen  the 
coming  of  "Carmen"  and  gradually  opened  their 
minds  to  an  appreciation  of  its  meaning  and  beauty, 
while  the  youthful  genius  who  had  created  it  sank 
almost  unnoticed  into  his  grave ;  but  they  had  not 
seen  the  advent  of  a  work  which  almost  in  a  day  set 
the  world  on  fire  and  raised  an  unknown  musician 
from  penury  and  obscurity  to  affluence  and  fame. 
In  the  face  of  such  an  experience  it  was  scarcely 
to  be  wondered  at  that  judgment  was  flung  to  the 
winds  and  that  the  most  volatile  of  musical  nations 
and  the  staidest  alike  hailed  the  young  composer  as 
the  successor  of  Verdi,  the  regenerator  of  operatic 
Italy,  and  the  pioneer  of  a  new  school  which  should 
revitalize  opera  and  make  unnecessary  the  hopeless 
task  of  trying  to  work  along  the  lines  laid  down  by 
Wagner. 

And  this  opera  was  the  outcome  of  a  competition 
based  on  the  frankest  kind  of  commercialism  —  one 
of  those  "occasional"  from  which  we  have  been 
taught  to  believe  we  ought  never  to  expect  anything 
of  ideal  and  lasting  merit.  "Pagliacci"  was,  in  a 
way,  a  fruit  of  the  same  competition.  Three  years 
before  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  had  started  the 
universal  conflagration  Ruggiero  Leoncavallo,  who 


"PAGLIACCI"  107 

at  sixteen  years  of  age  had  won  his  diploma  at  the 
Naples  Conservatory  and  received  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Letters  from  the  University  of  Bologna 
at  twenty,  had  read  his  dramatic  poem  "I  Medici" 
to  the  publisher  Ricordi  and  been  commissioned  to 
set  it  to  music.  For  this  work  he  was  to  receive 
2400  francs.  He  completed  the  composition  within 
a  year,  but  there  was  no  contract  that  the  opera 
should  be  performed,  and  this  hoped-for  consumma- 
tion did  not  follow.  Then  came  Mascagni's  triumph, 
and  Leoncavallo,  who  had  been  obliged  meanwhile 
to  return  to  the  routine  work  of  an  operatic  repetiteur, 
lost  patience.  Satisfied  that  Ricordi  would  never 
do  anything  more  for  him,  and  become  desperate, 
he  shut  himself  in  his  room  to  attempt  "one  more 
work" — as  he  said  in  an  autobiographical  sketch 
which  appeared  in  "La  Reforme,"  a  journal  pub- 
lished in  Alexandria.  In  five  months  he  had  written 
the  book  and  music  of  "Pagliacci,"  which  was 
accepted  for  publication  and  production  by  Sonzogno, 
Ricordi's  business  rival,  after  a  single  reading  of 
the  poem.  Maurel,  whose  friendship  Leoncavallo 
had  made  while  coaching  opera  singers  in  Paris, 
used  his  influence  in  favor  of  the  opera,  offered  to 
create  the  part  of  Tonio,  and  did  so  at  the  first  per- 
formance of  the  opera  at  the  Teatro  dal  Verme, 
Milan,  on  May  17,  1892. 

Leoncavallo's  opera  turns  on  a  tragical  ending  to 
a  comedy  which  is  incorporated  in  the  play.  The 
comedy  is  a  familiar  one  among  the  strolling  playera 


10S  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

who  perform  at  village  fairs  in  Italy,  in  which  Colom- 
bina,  Pagliaccio,  and  Arlecchino  (respectively  the 
Columbine,  Clown,  and  Harlequin  of  our  panto- 
mime) take  part.  Pagliaccio  is  husband  to  Colom- 
bina  and  Arlecchino  is  her  lover,  who  hoodwinks 
Pagliaccio.  There  is  a  fourth  character,  Taddeo,  a 
servant,  who  makes  foolish  love  to  Columbina  and, 
mingling  imbecile  stupidity  with  maliciousness,  de- 
lights in  the  domestic  discord  which  he  helps  to 
foment.  The  first  act  of  the  opera  may  be  looked 
upon  as  an  induction  to  the  conventional  comedy 
which  comes  to  an  unconventional  and  tragic  end 
through  the  fact  that  the  Clown  (Canio)  is  in  real  life 
the  husband  of  Columbine  (Nedda)  and  is  murder- 
ously jealous  of  her;  wherefore,  forgetting  himself 
in  a  mad  rage,  he  kills  her  and  her  lover  in  the  midst 
of  the  mimic  scene.  The  lover,  however,  is  not  the 
Harlequin  of  the  comedy,  but  one  of  the  spectators 
whom  Canio  had  vainly  sought  to  identify,  but  who 
is  unconsciously  betrayed  by  his  mistress  in  her 
death  agony.  The  Taddeo  of  the  comedy  is  the 
clown  of  the  company,  who  in  real  life  entertains  a 
passion  for  Nedda,  which  is  repulsed,  whereupon  he 
also  carries  his  part  into  actuality  and  betrays 
Nedda's  secret  to  Canio.  It  is  in  the  ingenious  in- 
terweaving of  these  threads  —  the  weft  of  reality 
with  the  warp  of  simulation  —  that  the  chief  dra- 
matic value  of  Leoncavallo's  opera  lies. 

Actual  murder  by  a  man  while  apparently  playing 
a  part  in  a  drama  is  older  as  a  dramatic  motif  than 


"PAGLIACCI"  109 

"Pagliacci,"  and  Leoncavallo's  employment  of  it 
gave  rise  to  an  interesting  controversy  and  a  still  more 
interesting  revelation  in  the  early  days  of  the  opera. 
Old  theatre-goers  in  England  and  America  remember 
the  device  as  it  was  employed  in  Dennery's  "Pail- 
laisse,"  known  on  the  English  stage  as  "Belphegor, 
the  Mountebank."  In  1874  Paul  Ferrier  produced 
a  play  entitled  "Tabarin,"  in  which  Coquelin  ap- 
peared at  the  Theatre  Franc.ais.  Thirteen  years 
later  Catulle  Mendes  brought  out  another  play 
called  "La  Femme  de  Tabarin,"  for  which  Chabrier 
wrote  the  incidental  music.  The  critics  were  prompt 
in  charging  Mendes  with  having  plagiarized  Ferrier, 
and  the  former  defended  himself  on  the  ground  that 
the  incident  which  he  had  employed,  of  actual 
murder  in  a  dramatic  performance,  was  historical 
and  had  often  been  used.  This,  however,  did  not 
prevent  him  from  bringing  an  accusation  of  theft 
against  Leoncavallo  when  "Pagliacci"  was  an- 
nounced for  production  in  French  at  Brussels  and  of 
beginning  legal  proceedings  against  the  composer 
and  his  publisher  on  that  score.  The  controversy 
which  followed  showed  very  plainly  that  Mendes 
did  not  have  a  leg  to  stand  upon  either  in  law  or 
equity,  and  he  withdrew  his  suit  and  made  a  hand- 
some amende  in  a  letter  to  the  editor  of  "Le  Figaro." 
Before  this  was  done,  however,  Signer  Leoncavallo 
wrote  a  letter  to  his  publisher,  which  not  only  estab- 
lished that  the  incident  in  question  was  based  upon 
fact  but  directed  attention  to  a  dramatic  use  of  the 


110  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

motif  in  a  Spanish  play  written  thirty-five  years 
before  the  occurrence  which  was  in  the  mind  of 
Leoncavallo.  The  letter  was  as  follows :  — 

Lugano,  Sept.  3,  1894. 
Dear  Signer  Sonzogno. 

I  have  read  Catulle  Mendes's  two  letters.  M.  Mendes 
goes  pretty  far  in  declaring  a  priori  that  "Pagliacci" 
is  an  imitation  of  his  "Femme  de  Tabarin."  I  had  not 
known  this  book,  and  only  know  it  now  through  the 
accounts  given  in  the  daily  papers.  You  will  remember 
that  at  the  time  of  the  first  performance  of  "Pagliacci" 
at  Milan  in  1892  several  critics  accused  me  of  having 
taken  the  subject  of  my  opera  from  the  "Drama  Nuevo" 
of  the  well  known  Spanish  writer,  Estebanez.  What 
would  M.  Mendes  say  if  he  were  accused  of  having  taken 
the  plot  of  "La  Femme  de  Tabarin"  from  the  "Drama 
Nuevo,"  which  dates  back  to  1830  or  1840?  As  a  fact, 
a  husband,  a  comedian,  kills  in  the  last  scene  the  lover 
of  his  wife  before  her  eyes  while  he  only  appears  to  play 
his  part  in  the  piece. 

It  is  absolutely  true  that  I  knew  at  that  tune  no  more 
of  the  "Drama  Nuevo"  than  I  know  now  of  "La  Femme 
de  Tabarin."  I  saw  the  first  mentioned  work  in  Rome 
represented  by  Novelli  six  months  after  "  Pagliacci's " 
first  production  in  Milan.  In  my  childhood,  while  my 
father  was  judge  at  Montalto,  in  Calabria  (the  scene  of 
the  opera's  plot),  a  jealous  player  killed  his  wife  after  the 
performance.  This  event  made  a  deep  and  lasting  im- 
pression on  my  childish  mind,  the  more  since  my  father 
was  the  judge  at  the  criminal's  trial ;  and  later,  when  I 
took  up  dramatic  work,  I  used  this  episode  for  a  drama. 
I  left  the  frame  of  the  piece  as  I  saw  it,  and  it  can  be  seen 
now  at  the  Festival  of  Madonna  della  Serra,  at  Montalto. 
The  clowns  arrive  a  week  or  ten  days  before  the  festival, 


"PAGLIACCI"  111 

which  takes  place  on  August  15,  to  put  up  their  tents 
and  booths  in  the  open  space  which  reaches  from  the 
church  toward  the  fields.  I  have  not  even  invented  the 
coming  of  the  peasants  from  Santo  Benedetto,  a  neighbor- 
ing village,  during  the  chorale. 

What  I  write  now  I  have  mentioned  so  often  in  Ger- 
many and  other  parts  that  several  opera  houses,  notably 
that  of  Berlin,  had  printed  on  their  bills  "Scene  of  the 
true  event."  After  all  this,  M.  Mendes  insisted  on  his 
claim,  which  means  that  he  does  not  believe  my  words. 
Had  I  used  M.  Mendes's  ideas  I  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  open  correspondence  with  him  before  the  first  represen- 
tation, as  I  have  done  now  with  a  well  known  writer  who 
has  a  subject  that  I  wish  to  use  for  a  future  work.  "Pag- 
liacci"  is  my  own,  entirely  my  own.  If  in  this  opera,  a 
scene  reminds  one  of  M.  Mendes's  book,  it  only  proves 
that  we  both  had  the  same  idea  which  Estebanez  had 
before  us.  On  my  honor  and  conscience  I  assure  you 
that  I  have  read  but  two  of  M.  Mendes's  books  in  my 
life  —  "Zo  Hur"  and  "La  Premiere  Maftresse."  When 
I  read  at  Marienbad  a  little  while  ago  the  newspaper 
notices  on  the  production  of  "La  Femme  de  Tabarin" 
I  even  wrote  to  you,  dear  Signer  Sonzogno,  thinking  this 
was  an  imitation  of  "Pagliacei."  This  assertion  will 
suffice,  coming  from  an  honorable  man,  to  prove  my 
loyalty.  If  not,  then  I  will  place  my  undoubted  rights 
under  the  protection  of  the  law,  and  furnish  incontestable 
proof  of  what  I  have  stated  here. 

I  have  the  honor,  etc.,  etc. 

At  various  times  and  in  various  manners,  by 
letters  and  in  newspaper  interviews,  Leoncavallo 
reiterated  the  statement  that  the  incident  which  he 
had  witnessed  as  a  boy  in  his  father's  courtroom  had 
suggested  his  drama.  The  chief  actor  in  the  inci- 


112  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

dent,  he  said,  was  still  living.  After  conviction  he 
was  asked  if  he  felt  penitent.  The  rough  voice 
which  rang  through  the  room  years  before  still 
echoed  in  Leoncavallo's  ears:  "I  repent  me  of 
nothing !  On  the  contrary,  if  I  had  it  to  do  over 
again  I'd  do  it  again !"  (Non  mi  pento  del  delitto! 
Tutt  altro.  Se  dovessi  ricomintiare,  ricomincerei !) 
He  was  sentenced  to  imprisonment  and  after  the 
expiration  of  his  term  took  service  in  a  little  Calabrian 
town  with  Baroness  Sproniere.  If  Mendes  had  pros- 
ecuted his  action,  "poor  Alessandro"  was  ready  to 
appear  as  a  witness  and  tell  the  story  which  Leon- 
cavallo had  dramatized. 

I  have  never  seen  "La  Femme  de  Tabarin"  and 
must  rely  on  Mr.  Philip  Hale,  fecund  fountain  of 
informal  information,  for  an  outline  of  the  play  which 
"Pagliacci"  called  back  into  public  notice :  Francis- 
quine,  the  wife  of  Tabarin,  irons  her  petticoats  in  the 
players'  booth.  A  musketeer  saunters  along,  stops 
and  makes  love  to  her.  She  listens  greedily.  Ta- 
barin enters  just  after  she  has  made  an  appointment 
with  the  man.  Tabarin  is  drunk  —  drunker  than 
usual.  He  adores  his  wife ;  he  falls  at  her  feet ;  he 
entreats  her;  he  threatens  her.  Meanwhile  the 
crowd  gathers  to  see  the  "parade."  Tabarin  mounts 
the  platform  and  tells  openly  of  his  jealousy.  He 
calls  his  wife ;  she  does  not  answer.  He  opens  the 
curtain  behind  him ;  then  he  sees  her  in  the  arms  of 
the  musketeer.  Tabarin  snatches  up  a  sword,  stabs 
his  wife  in  the  breast  and  comes  back  to  the  stage 


"PAGLIACCI"  113 

with  starting  eyes  and  hoarse  voice.  The  crowd 
marvels  at  the  passion  of  his  play.  Francisquine, 
bloody,  drags  herself  along  the  boards.  She  chokes ; 
she  cannot  speak.  Tabarin,  mad  with  despair,  gives 
her  the  sword,  begs  her  to  kill  him.  She  seizes  the 
sword,  raises  herself,  hiccoughs,  gasps  out  the  word 
"Canaille,"  and  dies  before  she  can  strike. 

Paul  Ferrier  and  Emanuel  Pessard  produced  a 
grand  opera  in  two  acts  entitled  "Tabarin"  in  Paris 
in  1885 ;  Alboiz  and  Andr6  a  comic  opera  with  the 
same  title,  music  by  Georges  Bousquet,  in  1852. 
Gilles  and  Furpilles  brought  out  an  operetta  called 
"Tabarin  Duelliste,"  with  music  by  Leon  Pillaut,  in 
1866.  The  works  seem  to  have  had  only  the  name  of 
the  hero  in  common.  Their  stories  bear  no  likeness 
to  those  of  "La  Femme  de  Tabarin"  or  "Pagliacci." 
The  Spanish  play,  "Drama  Nuevo,"  by  Estebanez, 
was  adapted  for  performance  in  English  by  Mr. 
W.  D.  Howells  under  the  title  "Yorick's  Love." 
The  translation  was  made  for  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett 
and  was  never  published  in  book  form.  If  it  had  the 
denouement  suggested  in  Leoncavallo's  letter  to 
Sonzogno,  the  fact  has  escaped  the  memory  of 
Mr.  Howells,  who,  in  answer  to  a  letter  of  inquiry 
which  I  sent  him,  wrote :  "So  far  as  I  can  remember 
there  was  no  likeness  between  'Yorick's  Love7 
and  'Pagliacci.'  But  when  I  made  my  version  I 
had  not  seen  or  heard  'Pagliacci.'"  :.. 

The  title  of  Leoncavallo's  opera  is  "Pagliacci," 
uot  "I  Pagliacci"  as  it  frequently  appears  in  books 


114  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

and  newspapers.  When  the  opera  was  brought  out 
in  the  vernacular,  Mr.  Frederick  E.  Weatherly,  who 
made  the  English  adaptation,  called  the  play  and 
the  character  assumed  by  Canio  in  the  comedy 
"Punchinello."  This  evoked  an  interesting  com- 
ment from  Mr.  Hale:  "'Pagliacci'  is  the  plural 
of  Pagliaccio,  which  does  not  mean  and  never  did 
mean  Punchinello.  What  is  a  Pagliaccio?  A  type 
long  known  to  the  Italians,  and  familiar  to  the  French 
as  Paillasse.  The  Pagliaccio  visited  Paris  first  in 
1570.  He  was  clothed  in  white  and  wore  big  buttons. 
Later,  he  wore  a  suit  of  bedtick,  with  white  and  blue 
checks,  the  coarse  mattress  cloth  of  the  period. 
Hence  his  name.  The  word  that  meant  straw  was 
afterward  used  for  mattress  which  was  stuffed  with 
straw  and  then  for  the  buffoon,  who  wore  the  mattress 
cloth  suit.  In  France  the  Paillasse,  as  I  have  said, 
was  the  same  as  Pagliaccio.  Sometimes  he  wore  a 
red  checked  suit,  but  the  genuine  one  was  known  by 
the  colors,  white  and  blue.  He  wore  blue  stockings, 
short  breeches  puffing  out  It  la  House,  a  belted  blouse 
and  a  black,  close-fitting  cap.  This  buffoon  was  seen 
at  shows  of  strolling  mountebanks.  He  stood  out- 
side the  booth  and  by  his  jests  and  antics  and  grim- 
aces strove  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  people, 
and  he  told  them  of  the  wonders  performed  by 
acrobats  within,  of  the  freaks  exhibited.  Many  of 
his  jests  are  preserved.  They  are  often  in  dialogue 
with  the  proprietor  and  are  generally  of  vile  in- 
decency. The  lowest  of  the  strollers,  he  was  abused 


"PAGLIACCI"  115 

by  them.  The  Italian  Pagliaccio  is  a  species  of 
clown,  and  Punchinello  was  never  a  mere  buffoon. 
The  Punch  of  the  puppet-show  is  a  bastard  descen- 
dant of  the  latter,  but  the  original  type  is  still  seen 
in  Naples,  where  he  wears  a  white  costume  and  a 
black  mask.  The  original  type  was  not  necessarily 
humpbacked.  Punchinello  is  a  shrewd  fellow,  intel- 
lectual, yet  in  touch  with  the  people,  cynical  ;  not 
hesitating  at  murder  if  he  can  make  by  it  ;  at  the 
same  time  a  local  satirist,  a  dealer  in  gags  and  quips. 
Pagliacci  is  perhaps  best  translated  by  'clowns'; 
but  the  latter  word  must  not  be  taken  in  its  re- 
stricted circus  sense.  These  strolling  clowns  are 
pantomimists,  singers,  comedians." 

At  the  first  performance  of  "Pagliacci"  in  Milan 
the  cast  was  as  follows:  Canio,  Geraud;  Tonio, 
Maurel;  Silvio,  Ancona;  Peppe,  Daddi;  Nedda, 
Mme.  Stehle.  The  first  performance  in  America  was 
by  the  Hinrichs  Grand  Opera  Company,  at  the  Grand 
Opera  House,  New  York,  on  June  15,  1893  ;  Selma 
Kronold  was  the  Nedda,  Montegriffo  the  Canio,  and 
Campanari  the  Tonio.  The  opera  was  incorporated 
in  the  Metropolitan  repertory  in  the  season  of  1893- 
1894. 


Kinuccini's  "Dafne,"  which  was  written  300 
years  ago  and  more,  begins  with  a  prologue  which 
was  spoken  in  the  character  of  the  poet  Ovid.  Leon- 
cavallo's "Pagliacci"  also  begins  with  a  prologue, 


116  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

but  it  is  spoken  by  one  of  the  people  of  the  play ; 
whether  in  his  character  as  Tonio  of  the  tragedy  or 
Pagliaccio  of  the  comedy  there  is  no  telling.  He 
speaks  the  sentiments  of  the  one  and  wears  the 
motley  of  the  other.  Text  and  music,  however,  are 
ingeniously  contrived  to  serve  as  an  index  to  the 
purposes  of  the  poet  and  the  method  and  material 
of  the  composer.  In  his  speech  the  prologue  tells 
us  that  the  author  of  the  play  is  fond  of  the  ancient 
custom  of  such  an  introduction,  but  not  of  the  old 
purpose.  He  does  not  employ  it  for  the  purpose  of 
proclaiming  that  the  tears  and  passions  of  the  actors 
are  but  simulated  and  false.  No  !  He  wishes  to 
let  us  know  that  his  play  is  drawn  from  life  as  it  is 
—  that  it  is  true.  It  welled  up  within  him  when 
memories  of  the  past  sang  in  his  heart  and  was 
written  down  to  show  us  that  actors  are  human  beings 
like  unto  ourselves. 

An  unnecessary  preachment,  and  if  listened  to 
with  a  critical  disposition  rather  an  impertinence, 
as  calculated  to  rob  us  of  the  pleasure  of  illusion 
which  it  is  the  province  of  the  drama  to  give.  Closely 
analyzed,  Tonio's  speech  is  very  much  of  a  piece 
with  the  prologue  which  Bully  Bottom  wanted  for 
the  play  of  "Pyramus"  in  Shakespeare's  comedy. 
We  are  asked  to  see  a  play.  In  this  play  there  is 
another  play.  In  this  other  play  one  of  the  actors 
plays  at  cross-purposes  with  the  author  —  forgets 
his  lines  and  himself  altogether  and  becomes  in 
reality  the  man  that  he  seems  to  be  in  the  first  play. 


"PAGLIACCI" 


117 


The  prologue  deliberately  aims  to  deprive  us  of  the 
thrill  of  surprise  at  the  unexpected  denouement, 
simply  that  he  may  tell  us  what  we  already  know 
as  well  as  he,  that  an  actor  is  a  human  being. 

Plainly  then,  from  a  didactic  point  of  view,  this 
prologue  is  a  gratuitous  impertinence.  Not  so  its 
music.  Structurally,  it  is  little  more  than  a  loose- 
jointed  pot-pourri;  but  it  serves  the  purpose  of  a 
thematic  catalogue  to  the  chief  melodic  incidents  of 
the  play  which  is  to  follow.  In  this  it  bears  a  faint 
resemblance  to  the  introduction  to  Berlioz's  "Romeo 
and  Juliet"  symphony.  It  begins  with  an  energetic 
figure, 

deciso 


z:«    A. 


£ 


which  is  immediately  followed  by  an  upward  scale- 
passage  with  a  saucy  flourish  at  the  end  —  not 
unlike  the  crack  of  a  whiplash :  — 


—   — •- 


£ 


It  helps  admirably  to  picture  the  bustling  activity  of 
the  festo  into  which  we  are  soon  to  be  precipitated. 


118 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


The  bits  of  melody  which  are  now  introduced  might 
all  be  labelled  in  the  Wolzogen-  Wagner  manner  with 
reference  to  the  play's  peoples  and  their  passions  if 
it  were  worth  while  to  do  so,  or  if  their  beauty  and 
eloquence  were  not  sufficient  unto  themselves. 
First  we  have  the  phrase  in  which  Canio  will  tell  us 
how  a  clown's  heart  must  seem  merry  and  make 
laughter  though  it  be  breaking  :  — 


dolorosamerte 


CORN i SOLI 


Next  the  phrase  from  the  love  music  of  Nedda  and 
Silvio :  — 


«> 


co  n  passtone  '    ^ 

The  bustling  music  returns,  develops  great  energy, 
then  pauses,  hesitates,  and  makes  way  for  Tonio, 
who,  putting  his  head  through  the  curtain,  politely 
asks  permission  of  the  audience,  steps  forward  and 
delivers  his  homily,  which  is  alternately  declamatory 
and  broadly  melodious.  One  of  his  melodies  later 
becomes  the  theme  of  the  between-acts  music,  which 


"PAGLIACCI"  119 

separates  the  supposedly  real  life  of  the  strolling 
players  from  the  comedy  which  they  present  to  the 
mimic  audience :  — 


^ 

-G>  

1    1  •    ff 

=5j  ^— 

frq 

-£±V%-9—  J  

Ah   think 
E  -    vo 

then, 

0  

sweet   peo 
jpittf  -  to 

-  pie,    when    ye 
-    ato       che      le 

f- 

f 

£ 

rr~~r 

•*"              J" 

f\* 

1              U           V 

J 

I", 

y  h    ix 

\J           V           * 

Z  b 

±Z__ 

y  U 

U1 

look     on 

no  -  stre 

us 
po 

clad    in      our      mot      -     ley 
T>e  -  re      gob   -bet             ne 

At  last  Tonio  calls  upon  his  fellow  mountebanks 
to  begin  their  play.  The  curtain  rises.  We  are  in 
the  midst  of  a  rural  celebration  of  the  Feast  of  the 
Assumption  on  the  outskirts  of  a  village  in  Calabria. 
A  perambulant  theatre  has  been  set  up  among  the 
trees  and  the  strolling  actors  are  arriving,  accom- 
panied by  a  crowd  of  villagers,  who  shout  greetings 
to  Clown,  Columbine,  and  Harlequin.  Nedda  ar- 
rives in  a  cart  drawn  by  a  donkey  led  by  Beppe. 
Canio  in  character  invites  the  crowd  to  come  to  the 
show  at  7  o'clock  (ventitre  ore).  There  they  shall 
be  regaled  with  a  sight  of  the  domestic  troubles  of 
Pagliaccio  and  see  the  fat  mischief-maker  tremble. 
Tonio  wants  to  help  Nedda  out  of  the  cart,  but  Canio 
interferes  and  lifts  her  down  himself ;  whereupon  the 
women  and  boys  twit  Tonio.  Canio  and  Beppe 


120      A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

wet  their  whistles  at  the  tavern,  but  Tonio  remains 
behind  on  the  plea  that  he  must  curry  the  donkey. 
The  hospitable  villager  playfully  suggests  that  it  is 
Tonio's  purpose  to  make  love  to  Nedda.  Canio, 
half  in  earnest,  half  in  jest,  points  out  the  difference 
between  real  life  and  the  stage.  In  the  play,  if  he 
catches  a  lover  with  his  wife,  he  flies  into  a  mock 
passion,  preaches  a  sermon,  and  takes  a  drubbing 
from  the  swain  to  the  amusement  of  the  audience. 
But  there  would  be  a  different  ending  to  the  story 
were  Nedda  actually  to  deceive  him.  Let  Tonio 
beware  !  Does  he  doubt  Nedda' s  fidelity  ?  Not  at 
all.  He  loves  her  and  seals  his  assurance  with  a 
kiss.  Then  off  to  the  tavern. 

Hark  to  the  bagpipes !  Huzza,  here  come  the 
zampognari !  Drone  pipes  droning  and  chaunters 
skirling  —  as  well  as  they  can  skirl  in  Italian ! 


Now  we  have  people  and  pipers  on  the  stage  and 
there's  a  bell  in  the  steeple  ringing  for  vespers. 
Therefore  a  chorus.  Not  that  we  have  anything  to 
say  that  concerns  the  story  in  any  way.  "Din, 
don !"  That  would  suffice,  but  if  you  must  have 
more:  "Let's  to  church.  Din,  don.  All's  right 
with  love  and  the  sunset.  Din,  don  !  But  mamma 
has  her  eye  on  the  young  folk  and  their  inclination 


"PAGLIACCI"  121 

for  kissing.  Din,  don ! "  Bells  and  pipes  are 
echoed  by  the  singers. 

Her  husband  is  gone  to  the  tavern  for  refreshment 
and  Nedda  is  left  alone.  There  is  a  little  trouble  in 
her  mind  caused  by  the  fierceness  of  Canio's  voice 
and  looks.  Does  he  suspect?  But  why  yield  to 
such  fancies  and  fears?  How  beautiful  the  mid- 
August  sun  is  !  Her  hopes  and  longings  find  expres- 
sion in  the  Ballatella  —  a  waltz  tune  with  twitter 
of  birds  and  rustle  of  leaves  for  accompaniment. 
Pretty  birds,  where  are  you  going?  What  is  it  you 
say  ?  Mother  knew  your  song  and  used  once  to  tell 
it  to  her  babe.  How  your  wings  flash  through  the 
ether !  Heedless  of  cloud  and  tempest,  on,  on,  past 
the  stars,  and  still  on  !  Her  wishes  take  flight  with 
the  feathered  songsters,  but  Tonio  brings  her  rudely 
to  earth.  He  pleads  for  a  return  of  the  love  which 
he  says  he  bears  her,  but  she  bids  him  postpone 
his  protestations  till  he  can  make  them  in  the  play. 
He  grows  desperately  urgent  and  attempts  to  rape 
a  kiss.  She  cuts  him  across  the  face  with  a  donkey 
whip,  and  he  goes  away  blaspheming  and  swearing 
vengeance. 

Then  Silvio  comes  —  Silvio,  the  villager,  who 
loves  her  and  who  has  her  heart.  She  fears  he  will 
be  discovered,  but  he  bids  her  be  at  peace ;  he  had 
left  Canio  drinking  at  the  tavern.  She  tells  him 
of  the  scene  with  Tonio  and  warns  him,  but  he  laughs 
at  her  fears.  Then  he  pleads  with  her.  She  does 
not  love  her  husband ;  she  is  weary  of  the  wandering 


122  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

life  which  she  is  forced  to  lead ;  if  her  love  is  true 
let  her  fly  with  him  to  happiness.  No.  'Tis  folly, 
madness ;  her  heart  is  his,  but  he  must  not  tempt 
her  to  its  destruction.  Tonio  slinks  in  and  plays 
eavesdropper.  He  hears  the  mutual  protestations 
of  the  lovers,  hears  Nedda  yield  to  Silvio' s  wild  plead- 
ings, sees  them  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  and  hur- 
ries off  to  fetch  Canio.  Canio  comes,  but  not  in  time 
to  see  the  man  who  had  climbed  over  the  wall,  yet 
in  time  to  hear  Nedda's  word  of  parting :  A  stanotte 
—  e  per  sempre  tua  saro  —  "To-night,  and  forever, 
I  am  yours!"  He  throws  Nedda  aside  and  gives 
chase  after  the  fugitive,  but  is  baffled.  He  demands 
to  be  told  the  name  of  her  lover.  Nedda  refuses  to 
answer.  He  rushes  upon  her  with  dagger  drawn, 
but  Beppe  intercepts  and  disarms  him.  There  is 
haste  now;  the  villagers  are  already  gathering  for 
the  play.  Tonio  insinuates  his  wicked  advice :  Let 
us  dissemble ;  the  gallant  may  be  caught  at  the  play. 
The  others  go  out  to  prepare  for  their  labors.  Canio 
staggers  toward  the  theatre.  He  must  act  the  merry 
fool,  though  his  heart  be  torn  !  Why  not  ?  What 
is  he  ?  A  man  ?  No ;  a  clown !  On  with  the 
motley !  The  public  must  be  amused.  What 
though  Harlequin  steals  his  Columbine?  Laugh, 
Pagliaccio,  though  thy  heart  break  ! 

The  between-acts  music  is  retrospective ;  it  com- 
ments on  the  tragic  emotions,  the  pathos  foretold 
in  the  prologue.  Act  II  brings  the  comedy  which  is 
to  have  a  realistic  and  bloody  ending.  The  villagers 


"PAGLIACCI" 


123 


gather  and  struggle  for  places  in  front  of  the  booth. 
Among  them  is  Silvio,  to  whom  Nedda  speaks  a  word 
of  warning  as  she  passes  him  while  collecting  the 
admission  fees.  He  reminds  her  of  the  assignation ; 
she  will  be  there.  The  comedy  begins  to  the  music 
of  a  graceful  minuet :  — 


Tempo  di  Minuetto  J  =  69 


Columbine  is  waiting  for  Harlequin.  Taddeo  is 
at  the  market  buying  the  supper  for  the  mimic  lovers. 
Harlequin  sings  his  serenade  under  the  window : 
"0,  Colombina,  il  tenero  fido  Arlecchin"  —  a  pretty- 
measure  !  Taddeo  enters  and  pours  out  his  admira- 
tion for  Colombina  in  an  exaggerated  cadenza  as 
he  offers  her  his  basket  of  purchases.  The  audience 
shows  enjoyment  of  the  sport.  Taddeo  makes  love 
to  Colombina  and  Harlequin,  entering  by  the  win- 
dow, lifts  him  up  by  the  ears  from  the  floor  where  he 
is  kneeling  and  kicks  him  out  of  the  room.  What 
fun  !  The  mimic  lovers  sit  at  table  and  discuss  the 
supper  and  their  love.  Taddeo  enters  in  mock  alarm 
to  tell  of  the  coming  of  Pagliaccio.  Harlequin 


124  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

decamps,  but  leaves  a  philtre  in  the  hands  of  Colum- 
bine to  be  poured  into  her  husband's  wine.  At  the 
window  Columbine  calls  after  him:  A  stanotte  — 
e  per  sempre  io  saro  tua!  At  this  moment  Canio 
enters  in  the  character  of  Pagliaccio.  He  hears 
again  the  words  which  Nedda  had  called  after  the 
fleeing  Silvio,  and  for  a  moment  is  startled  out  of  his 
character.  But  he  collects  himself  and  begins  to 
play  his  part.  "A  man  has  been  here  !  "  "  You've 
been  drinking !"  The  dialogue  of  the  comedy  con- 
tinues, but  ever  and  anon  with  difficulty  on  the  part 
of  Pagliaccio,  who  begins  to  put  a  sinister  inflection 
into  his  words.  Taddeo  is  dragged  from  the  cup- 
board in  which  he  had  taken  hiding.  He,  too,  puts 
color  of  verity  into  his  lines,  especially  when  he  prates 
about  the  purity  of  Columbine.  Canio  loses  control 
of  himself  more  and  more.  "Pagliaccio  no  more, 
but  a  man  —  a  man  seeking  vengeance.  The  name 
of  your  lover!"  The  audience  is  moved  by  his 
intensity.  Silvio  betrays  anxiety.  Canio  rages  on. 
"The  name,  the  name!"  The  mimic  audience 
shouts,  "  Bravo  ! "  Nedda :  if  he  doubts  her  she  will 
go.  "No,  by  God  !  You'll  remain  and  tell  me  the 
name  of  your  lover!"  With  a  great  effort  Nedda 
forces  herself  to  remain  in  character.  The  music, 
whose  tripping  dance  measures  have  given  way  to 
sinister  mutterings  in  keeping  with  Canio' s  mad  out- 
bursts, as  the  mimic  play  ever  and  anon  threatens 
to  leave  its  grooves  and  plunge  into  the  tragic  vortex 
of  reality,  changes  to  a  gavotte :  — 


"PAGLIACCI" 


125 


Columbine  explains :  she  had  no  idea  her  hus- 
band could  put  on  so  tragical  a  mask.  It  is  only 
harmless  Harlequin  who  has  been  her  companion. 
"The  name  !  The  name !!  THE  NAME  ! ! !"  Nedda 
sees  catastrophe  approaching  and  throws  her  char- 
acter to  the  winds.  She  shrieks  out  a  defiant 
"No!"  and  attempts  to  escape  from  the  mimic 
stage.  Silvio  starts  up  with  dagger  drawn.  The 
spectators  rise  in  confusion  and  cry  "Stop  him!" 
Canio  seizes  Nedda  and  plunges  his  knife  into  her: 
"Take  that !  And  that !  With  thy  dying  gasps 
thou'lt  tell  me  !"  Woful  intuition  !  Dying,  Nedda 
calls:  "Help,  Silvio!"  Silvio  rushes  forward  and 
receives  Canto's  knife  in  his  heart.  "Gesumaria !" 
shriek  the  women.  Men  throw  themselves  upon 
Canio.  He  stands  for  a  moment  in  a  stupor,  drops 
his  knife  and  speaks  the  words:  "The  comedy  is 
ended."  "  Ridi  Pagliaccio  ! "  shrieks  the  orchestra 
as  the  curtain  falls. 

"Plaudite,  amici,"  said  Beethoven  on  his  death 
bed,  "la  commedia  finita  est!"  And  there  is  a 
tradition  that  these,  too,  were  the  last  words  of  the 


126  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

arch-jester  Rabelais.  "When  'Pagliacci'  was  first 
sung  here  (in  Boston),  by  the  Tavary  company," 
says  Mr.  Philip  Hale,  "Tonio  pointed  to  the  dead 
bodies  and  uttered  the  sentence  in  a  mocking  way. 
And  there  is  a  report  that  such  was  Leoncavallo's 
original  intention.  As  the  Tonio  began  the  piece  in 
explanation  so  he  should  end  it.  But  the  tenor 
(de  Lucia)  insisted  that  he  should  speak  the  line. 
I  do  not  believe  the  story.  (1)  As  Maurel  was  the 
original  Tonio  and  the  tenor  was  comparatively 
unknown,  it  is  doubtful  whether  Maurel,  of  all  men, 
would  have  allowed  of  the  loss  of  a  fat  line.  (2)  As 
Canio  is  chief  of  the  company  it  is  eminently  proper 
that  he  should  make  the  announcement  to  the  crowd. 
(3)  The  ghastly  irony  is  accentuated  by  the  speech 
when  it  comes  from  Canio' s  mouth." 


CHAPTER  IX 

"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA" 

HAVING  neither  the  patience  nor  the  inclination 
to  paraphrase  a  comment  on  Mascagni's  "  Cavalleria 
rusticana"  which  I  wrote  years  ago  when  the  opera 
was  comparatively  new,  and  as  it  appears  to  me  to 
contain  a  just  estimate  and  criticism  of  the  work 
and  the  school  of  which  it  and  "Pagliacci"  remain 
the  foremost  exemplars,  I  quote  from  my  book, 
"Chapters  of  Opera" 1 :  "Seventeen  years  ago  'Ca- 
valleria rusticana '  had  no  perspective.  Now,  though 
but  a  small  portion  of  its  progeny  has  been  brought 
to  our  notice,  we  nevertheless  look  at  it  through  a 
vista  which  looks  like  a  valley  of  moral  and  physical 
death  through  which  there  flows  a  sluggish  stream 
thick  with  filth  and  red  with  blood.  Strangely 
enough,  in  spite  of  the  consequences  which  have  fol- 
lowed it,  the  fierce  little  drama  retains  its  old  po- 
tency. It  still  speaks  with  a  voice  which  sounds 
like  the  voice  of  truth.  Its  music  still  makes  the 
nerves  tingle,  and  carries  our  feelings  unresistingly 
on  its  turbulent  current.  But  the  stage-picture  is 
less  sanguinary  than  it  looked  in  the  beginning.  It 

1  "Chapters  of  Opera,"  by  H.  E.  Krehbiel,  p.  223. 
127 


128       A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

seems  to  have  receded  a  millennium  in  time.  It 
has  the  terrible  fierceness  of  an  Attic  tragedy,  but 
it  also  has  the  decorum  which  the  Attic  tragedy 
never  violated.  There  is  no  slaughter  in  the  presence 
of  the  audience,  despite  the  humbleness  of  its  person- 
ages. It  does  not  keep  us  perpetually  in  sight  of  the 
shambles.  It  is,  indeed,  an  exposition  of  chivalry; 
rustic,  but  chivalry  nevertheless.  It  was  thus  Cly- 
temnestra  slew  her  husband,  and  Orestes  his  mother. 
Note  the  contrast  which  the  duel  between  A Ifio  and 
Turiddu  presents  with  the  double  murder  to  the 
piquant  accompaniment  of  comedy  in  'Pagliacci/ 
the  opera  which  followed  so  hard  upon  its  heels. 
Since  then  piquancy  has  been  the  cry ;  the  piquant 
contemplation  of  adultery,  seduction,  and  murder 
amid  the  reek  and  stench  of  the  Italian  barnyard. 
Think  of  Cilea's  'Tilda/  Giordano's  'Mala  Vita/ 
Spinelli's  'A  Basso  Porto/  and  Tasca's  'A  Santa 
Lucia' ! 

"The  stories  chosen  for  operatic  treatment  by  the 
champions  of  verismo  are  all  alike.  It  is  their  filth 
and  blood  which  fructifies  the  music,  which  rasps 
the  nerves  even  as  the  plays  revolt  the  moral  stomach. 
I  repeat :  Looking  back  over  the  time  during  which 
this  so-called  veritism  has  held  its  orgies, '  Cavalleria 
rusticana'  seems  almost  classic.  Its  music  is  highly 
spiced  and  tastes  'hot  i'  th'  mouth/  but  its  eloquence 
is,  after  all,  in  its  eager,  pulsating,  passionate  melody 
—  like  the  music  which  Verdi  wrote  more  than  half 
a  century  ago  for  the  last  act  of  'II  Trovatore.'  If 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA"  129 

neither  Mascagni  himself  nor  his  imitators  have 
succeeded  in  equalling  it  since,  it  is  because  they 
have  thought  too  much  of  the  external  devices  of 
abrupt  and  uncouth  change  of  modes  and  tonalities, 
of  exotic  scales  and  garish  orchestration,  and  too 
little  of  the  fundamental  element  of  melody  which 
once  was  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  Italian  music. 
Another  fountain  of  gushing  melody  must  be  opened 
before  'Cavalleria  rusticana'  finds  a  successor  in  all 
things  worthy  of  the  succession.  Ingenious  artifice, 
reflection,  and  technical  cleverness  will  not  suffice 
even  with  the  blood  and  mud  of  the  slums  as  a 
fertilizer." 

How  Mascagni  came  to  write  his  opera  he  has 
himself  told  us  in  a  bright  sketch  of  the  early  part 
of  his  life-history  which  was  printed  in  the  "Fanfulla 
della  Domenica"  of  Rome  shortly  after  he  became 
famous.  Recounting  the  story  of  his  struggle  for 
existence  after  entering  upon  his  career,  he  wrote :  — 

In  1888  only  a  few  scenes  (of  "Ratcliff")  remained  to  be 
composed ;  but  I  let  them  lie  and  have  not  touched  them 
since.  The  thought  of  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  had  been 
in  my  head  for  several  years.  I  wanted  to  introduce  my- 
self with  a  work  of  small  dimensions.  I  appealed  to 
several  librettists,  but  none  was  willing  to  undertake  the 
work  without  a  guarantee  of  recompense.  Then  came 
notice  of  the  Sonzogno  competition  and  I  eagerly  seized 
the  opportunity  to  better  my  condition.  But  my  salary 
of  100  lire,  to  which  nothing  was  added,  except  the  fees 
from  a  few  pianoforte  lessons  in  Cerignola  and  two  lessons 
in  the  Philharmonic  Society  of  Canosa  (a  little  town  a 


130  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

few  miles  from  Cerignola),  did  not  permit  the  luxury  of  a 
libretto.  At  the  solicitation  of  some  friends  Targioni, 
in  Leghorn,  decided  to  write  a  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  for 
me.  My  mind  was  long  occupied  with  the  finale.  The 
words :  Hanno  ammazzato  compare  Turiddu  !  (They  have 
/killed  Neighbor  Turiddu!)  were  forever  ringing  in  my 
/  ears.  I  needed  a  few  mighty  orchestral  chords  to  give 
characteristic  form  to  the  musical  phrase  and  achieve  an 
impressive  close.  How  it  happened  I  don't  know,  but 
one  morning,  as  I  was  trudging  along  the  road  to  give  my 
lessons  at  Canosa,  the  idea  came  to  me  like  a  stroke  of 
lightning,  and  I  had  found  my  chords.  They  were  those 
seventh  chords,  which  I  conscientiously  set  down  in  my 
manuscript. 

Thus  I  began  my  opera  at  the  end.  When  I  received 
the  first  chorus  of  my  libretto  by  post  (I  composed  the 
Siciliano  in  the  prelude  later)  I  said  in  great  good  humor 
to  my  wife : 

"To-day  we  must  make  a  large  expenditure." 

"What  for?" 

"An  alarm  clock." 

"Why?" 

"To  wake  me  up  before  dawn  so  that  I  may  begin  to 
write  on  'Cavalleria  rusticana.'  " 

The  expenditure  caused  a  dubious  change  in  the 
monthly  budget,  but  it  was  willingly  allowed.  We  went 
out  together,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  bargaining  spent 
nine  lire.  I  am  sure  that  I  can  find  the  clock,  all  safe 
and  sound,  in  Cerignola.  I  wound  it  up  the  evening  we 
bought  it,  but  it  was  destined  to  be  of  no  service  to  me, 
for  in  that  night  a  son,  the  first  of  a  row  of  them,  was 
born  to  me.  In  spite  of  this  I  carried  out  my  determina- 
tion, and  in  the  morning  began  to  write  the  first  chorus  of 
"Cavalleria."  I  came  to  Rome  in  February,  1890,  in 
order  to  permit  the  jury  to  hear  my  opera ;  they  decided 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA"  131 

that  it  was  worthy  of  performance.  Returning  to  Ceri- 
gnola  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  excitement,  I  noticed  that 
I  did  not  have  a  penny  in  my  pocket  for  the  return  trip 
to  Rome  when  my  opera  was  to  be  rehearsed.  Signer 
Sonzogno  helped  me  out  of  my  embarrassment  with  a 
few  hundred  francs. 

Those  beautiful  days  of  fear  and  hope,  of  discourage- 
ment and  confidence,  are  as  vividly  before  my  eyes  as  if 
they  were  now.  I  see  again  the  Constanzi  Theatre, 
half  filled ;  I  see  how,  after  the  last  excited  measures  of 
the  orchestra,  they  all  raise  their  arms  and  gesticulate, 
as  if  they  were  threatening  me;  and  in  my  soul  there 
awakens  an  echo  of  that  cry  of  approval  which  almost 
prostrated  me.  The  effect  made  upon  me  was  so  power- 
ful that  at  the  second  representation  I  had  to  request 
them  to  turn  down  the  footlights  in  case  I  should  be 
called  out;  for  the  blinding  light  seemed  a  hell  to  me, 
like  a  fiery  abyss  that  threatened  to  engulf  me. 

It  is  a  rude  little  tale  which  Giovanni  Verga  wrote 
and  which  supplied  the  librettists,   G.   Targioni- 
Tozzetti  and  G.  Menasci,  with  the  plot  of  Mas- 
cagni's  opera.    Sententious  as  the  opera  seems,  it  is 
yet  puffed  out,  padded,  and  bedizened  with  unessen-     : 
tial  ornament  compared  with  the  story.    This  has 
the  simplicity  and  directness  of  a  folk-tale  or  folk- 
song,  and  much  of  its   characteristic   color    and   \ 
strength  were  lost  in  fitting  it  out  for  music.    The  - 
play,  which  Signora  Duse  presented  to  us  with  a 
power  which  no  operatic  singer  can  ever  hope  to 
match,  was  more  to  the  purpose,  quicker  and  stronger 
in  movement,  fiercer  in  its  onrush  of  passion,  and 
more  pathetic  in  its  silences  than  the  opera  with  its 


132  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

music,  though  the  note  of  pathos  sounded  by  Signer 
Mascagni  is  the  most  admirable  element  of  the  score. 
With  half  a  dozen  homely  touches  Verga  conjures 
up  the  life  of  a  Sicilian  village  and  strikes  out  his 
characters  in  bold  outline.  Turiddu  Macca,  son  of 
Nunzia,  is  a  bersagliere  returned  from  service.  He 
struts  about  the  village  streets  in  his  uniform,  smok- 
ing a  pipe  carved  with  an  image  of  the  king  on  horse- 
back, which  he  lights  with  a  match  fired  by  a  scratch 
on  the  seat  of  his  trousers,  "lifting  his  leg  as  if  for  a 
kick."  Lola,  daughter  of  Massaro  Angelo,  was  his 
sweetheart  when  he  was  conscripted,  but  meanwhile 
she  has  promised  to  marry  Alfio,  a  teamster  from 
Licodia,  who  has  four  Sortino  mules  in  his  stable. 
Now  Turiddu  could  do  nothing  better  than  sing 
spiteful  songs  under  her  window. 

Lola  married  the  teamster,  and  on  Sundays  she 
would  sit  in  the  yard  with  her  hands  posed  on  her 
hips  to  show  off  the  thick  gold  rings  which  her  hus- 
band had  given  her.  Opposite  Alfio's  house  lived 
Massaro  Cola,  who  was  as  rich  as  a  hog,  as  they 
said,  and  who  had  an  only  daughter  named  Santa. 
Turiddu,  to  spite  Lola,  paid  his  addresses  to  Santa 
and  whispered  sweet  words  into  her  ear. 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  say  these  nice  things  to 
Lola?"  asked  Santa  one  day. 

"Lola  is  a  fine  lady  now ;  she  has  married  a  crown 
prince.  But  you  are  worth  a  thousand  Lolas ;  she 
isn't  worthy  of  wearing  your  old  shoes.  I  could  just 
eat  you  up  with  my  eyes,  Santa"— thus  Turiddu. 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA"  133 

"You  may  eat  me  with  your  eyes  and  welcome, 
for  then  there  will  be  no  leaving  of  crumbs." 

"If  I  were  rich  I  would  like  to  have  a  wife  just 
like  you." 

"I  shall  never  marry  a  crown  prince,  but  I  shall 
have  a  dowry  as  well  as  Lola  when  the  good  Lord 
sends  me  a  lover." 

The  tassel  on  his  cap  had  tickled  the  girl's  fancy. 
Her  father  disapproved  of  the  young  soldier,  and 
turned  him  from  his  door;  but  Santa  opened  her 
window  to  him  until  the  village  gossips  got  busy 
with  her  name  and  his.  Lola  listened  to  the  talk 
of  the  lovers  from  behind  a  vase  of  flowers.  One 
day  she  called  after  Turiddu  :  "Ah,  Turiddu  !  Old 
friends  are  no  longer  noticed,  eh?" 

"He  is  a  happy  man  who  has  the  chance  of  seeing 
you,  Lola." 

"You  know  where  I  live,"  answered  Lola.  And 
now  Turiddu  visited  Lola  so  often  that  Santa  shut 
her  window  in  his  face  and  the  villagers  began  to 
smile  knowingly  when  he  passed  by.  Alfio  was 
making  a  round  of  the  fairs  with  his  mules.  "  Next 
Sunday  I  must  go  to  confession,"  said  Lola  one  day, 
"for  last  night  I  dreamt  that  I  saw  black  grapes." 

"Never  mind  the  dream,"  pleaded  Turiddu. 

"But  Easter  is  coming,  and  my  husband  will 
want  to  know  why  I  have  not  confessed." 

Santa  was  before  the  confessional  waiting  her  turn 
when  Lola  was  receiving  absolution.  "I  wouldn't 
send  you  to  Rome  for  absolution,"  she  said.  Alfio 


134  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

•came  home  with  his  mules,  and  money  and  a  rich 
holiday  dress  for  his  wife. 

"You  do  well  to  bring  presents  to  her,"  said 
Santa  to  him,  "for  when  you  are  away  your  wife 
adorns  your  head  for  you." 

"Holy  Devil!"  screamed  Alfio.  "Be  sure  of 
what  you  are  saying,  or  I'll  not  leave  you  an  eye  to 
«ry  with !" 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  crying.  I  haven't  wept 
even  when  I  have  seen  Turiddu  going  into  your 
wife's  house  at  night." 

"  Enough  ! "  said  Alfio.    "  I  thank  you  very  much." 

The  cat  having  come  back  home,  Turiddu  kept  off 
the  streets  by  day,  but  in  the  evenings  consoled  him- 
self with  his  friends  at  the  tavern.  They  were  en- 
joying a  dish  of  sausages  there  on  Easter  eve.  When 
Alfio  came  in  Turiddu  understood  what  he  wanted 
by  the  way  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  him.  "You  know 
what  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about,"  said  Alfio  when 
Turiddu  asked  him  if  he  had  any  commands  to  give 
him.  He  offered  Alfio  a  glass  of  wine,  but  it  was 
refused  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"Here  I  am,"  said  Turiddu.  Alfio  put  his  arms 
around  his  neck.  "We'll  talk  this  thing  over  if  you 
will  meet  me  to-morrow  morning." 

"You  may  look  for  me  on  the  highway  at  sunrise, 
and  we  will  go  on  together." 

They  exchanged  the  kiss  of  challenge,  and  Turiddu, 
as  an  earnest  that  he  would  be  on  hand,  bit  Alfio's 
ear.  His  companions  left  their  sausages  uneaten 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA"  135 

and  went  home  with  Turiddu.  There  his  mother 
was  sitting  up  for  him. 

"Mamma,"  Turridu  said  to  her,  "do  you  remem- 
ber that  when  I  went  away  to  be  a  soldier  you 
thought  I  would  never  come  back  ?  Kiss  me  as  you 
did  then,  mamma,  for  to-morrow  I  am  going  away 
again." 

Before  daybreak  he  took  his  knife  from  the  place 
in  the  haymow  where  he  had  hidden  it  when  he  went 
soldiering,  and  went  out  to  meet  Alfio. 

"Holy  Mother  of  Jesus!"  grumbled  Lola  when 
her  husband  prepared  to  go  out;  "where  are  you 
going  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"I  am  going  far  away,"  answered  Alfio,  "and  it 
will  be  better  for  you  if  I  never  come  back  !" 

The  two  men  met  on  the  highway  and  for  a  while 
walked  on  in  silence.  Turiddu  kept  his  cap  pulled 
down  over  his  face.  "  Neighbor  Alfio,"  he  said  after 
a  space,  "  as  true  as  I  live  I  know  that  I  have  wronged 
you,  and  I  would  let  myself  be  killed  if  I  had  not 
seen  my  old  mother  when  she  got  up  on  the  pretext 
of  looking  after  the  hens.  And  now,  as  true  as  I 
live,  I  will  kill  you  like  a  dog  so  that  my  dear  old 
mother  may  not  have  cause  to  weep." 

"Good!"  answered  Alfio;  "we  will  both  strike 
hard  !"  And  he  took  off  his  coat. 

Both  were  good  with  the  knife.  Turiddu  received 
the  first  blow  in  his  arm,  and  when  he  returned  it 
struck  for  Alfio's  heart. 

"  Ah,  Turiddu  !    You  really  do  intend  to  kill  me  ?  " 


136  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

"Yes,  I  told  you  so.  Since  I  saw  her  in  the  hen- 
yard  I  have  my  old  mother  always  in  my  eyes." 

"Keep  those  eyes  wide  open/'  shouted  Alfio,  "for 
I  am  going  to  return  you  good  measure  !" 

Alfio  crouched  almost  to  the  ground,  keeping  his 
left  hand  on  the  wound,  which  pained  him.  Suddenly 
he  seized  a  handful  of  dust  and  threw  it  into  Turiddu's 
eyes. 

"Ah  !"  howled  Turiddu,  blinded  by  the  dust,  "I'm 
a  dead  man  !"  He  attempted  to  save  himself  by 
leaping  backward,  but  Alfio  struck  him  a  second 
blow,  this  time  in  the  belly,  and  a  third  in  the 
throat. 

"  That  makes  three  —  the  last  for  the  head  you 
have  adorned  for  me  !" 

Turiddu  staggered  back  into  the  bushes  and  fell. 
He  tried  to  say,  "Ah,  my  dear  mother !"  but  the 
blood  gurgled  up  in  his  throat  and  he  could  not. 


Music  lends  itself  incalculably  better  to  the  cele- 
bration of  a  mood  accomplished  or  achieved  by 
action,  physical  or  psychological,  than  to  an  expres- 
sion of  the  action  itself.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  the 
lyric  drama  that  this  should  be  so,  and  there  need 
be  no  wonder  that  wherever  Verga  offered  an  oppor- 
tunity for  set  lyricism  it  was  embraced  by  Mascagni 
and  his  librettists.  Verga  tells  us  that  Turiddu, 
having  lost  Lola,  comforted  himself  by  singing  spite- 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA"  137 

ful  songs  under  her  window.  This  suggested  the 
Siciliano,  which,  an  afterthought,  Mascagni  put  into 
his  prelude  as  a  serenade,  not  in  disparagement,  but 
in  praise  of  Lola.  It  was  at  Easter  that  Alfio  re- 
turned to  discover  the  infidelity  of  his  wife,  and 
hence  we  have  an  Easter  hymn,  one  of  the  musical 
high  lights  of  the  work,  though  of  no  dramatic  value. 
Verga  aims  to  awaken  at  least  a  tittle  of  extenua- 
tion and  a  spark  of  sympathy  for  Turiddu  by  show- 
ing us  his  filial  love  in  conflict  with  his  willingness  to 
make  reparation  to  Alfio ;  Mascagni  and  his  libret- 
tists do  more  by  showing  us  the  figure  of  the  young 
soldier  blending  a  request  for  a  farewell  kiss  from  his 
mother  with  a  prayer  for  protection  for  the  woman 
he  has  wronged.  In  its  delineation  of  the  tender 
emotions,  indeed,  the  opera  is  more  generous  and 
kindly  than  the  story.  Santuzza  does  not  betray 
her  lover  in  cold  blood  as  does  Santa,  but  in  the 
depth  of  her  humiliation  and  at  the  climax  of  her 
jealous  fury  created  by  Turiddu's  rejection  of  her 
when  he  follows  Lola  into  church.  Moreover,  her 
love  opens  the  gates  to  remorse  the  moment  she 
realizes  what  the  consequence  of  her  act  is  to  be. 
The  opera  sacrifices  some  of  the  virility  of  Turiddu's 
character  as  sketched  by  Verga,  but  by  its  classic 
treatment  of  the  scene  of  the  killing  it  saves  us  from 
the  contemplation  of  Alfio 's  dastardly  trick  which 
turns  a  duel  into  a  cowardly  assassination. 

The  prelude  to  the  opera  set  the  form  which  Leon- 
cavallo followed,  slavishly  followed,  in  "Pagliacci." 


138 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


The  orchestral  proclamation  of  the  moving  passions 
of  the  play  is  made  by  the  use  of  fragments  of  melody 
which  in  the  vocal  score  mark  climaxes  in  the  dia- 
logue. The  first  high  point  in  the  prelude  is  reached 
in  the  strain  to  which  Santuzza  begs  for  the  love  of 
Turiddu,  even  after  she  has  disclosed  to  him  her 
knowledge  of  his  infidelity :  — 


Lffi 


una  cor  da 


0  •*- 


Fed. 


*  Ped. 


-*- 


£=T 


^7 


PeA 


f 

Ped. 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA" 


139 


4— 


Ped. 


Ped. 


BB  

3  

S2 

o 

--•                       ~-^                   ^-                    •  ~, 

-    3 

.  ^  =^  .          ^      ?         JtfJ  -  ^  . 

["•v*                         '      4 

•            ^-'l                •- 

-^  b          *i 

~  —  *  *i  — 

f 

"F 

the  second  is  the  broad  melody  in  which  she 
with  him  to  return  to  her  arms  :  — 


Andante  un  poco  di  moio  J  .  =  60 


* 
pleads 


140 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


Between  these  expositions  falls  the  Siciliano, 
which  interrupts  the  instrumental  flood  just  as  Lola's 
careless  song,  the  Stornello,  interrupts  the  passion- 
ate rush  of  Santuzza's  protestations,  prayers,  and 
lamentations  in  the  scene  between  her  and  her  faith- 
less lover :  — 


-f— 


-i/- 


O     Lo  -  la,  bian-ca     co  -  me  flor  di 
^      a  tempo 


quau-do  t'af-fac  -  ci     te        s'affaccio  il      so    -  le, 


These  sharp  contrasts,  heightened  by  the  device 
of  surprise,  form  one  of  the  marked  characteristics 
of  Mascagni's  score  and  one  of  the  most  effective. 
We  meet  it  also  in  the  instrumentation  —  the  harp 
accompaniment  to  the  serenade,  the  pauses  which 
give  piquancy  to  Lola's  ditty,  the  unison  violins, 
harp  arpeggios,  and  sustained  organ  chords  of  the 
intermezzo. 

When  the  curtain  rises  it  discloses  the  open 
square  of  a  Sicilian  village,  flanked  by  a  church  and 
the  inn  of  Lucia,  Turiddu's  mother.  It  is  Easter 
morning  and  villagers  and  peasants  are  gathering 
for  the  Paschal  mass.  Church  bells  ring  and  the 
orchestra  breaks  into  the  eager  melody  which  a  little 
later  we  hear  combined  with  the  voices  which  are 
hymning  the  pleasant  sights  and  sounds  of  nature :— 


"CA^ALLEKIA  RUSTIC  ANA" 


141 


A  charming  conception  is  the  regular  beat  and  flux 
and  reflux  of  the  women's  voices  as  they  sing 


_J 


Gli  a-ran-ci  o-lez-  za  -  no   sui   ver  -  di    mar-gi  -  ni 


can-tan  le  al-lo  do  le  tra  i  mir-ti  in  fior. 


Delightful  and  refreshing  is  the  bustling  strain  of 
the  men.  The  singers  depart  with  soft  exclamations 
of  rapture  called  out  by  the  contemplation  of  nature 
and  thoughts  of  the  Virgin  Mother  and  Child  in  their 
hearts.  Comes  Santuzza,  sore  distressed,  to  Mamma 
Lucia,  to  inquire  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  her  son 
Turiddu.  Lucia  thinks  him  at  Francofonte;  but 
Santuzza  knows  that  he  spent  the  night  in  the  village. 


142 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


In  pity  for  the  maiden's  distress,  Lucia  asks  her  to 
enter  her  home,  but  Santuzza  may  not  —  she  is  ex- 
communicate. Alfio  enters  with  boisterous  jollity, 
singing  of  his  jovial  carefree  life  as  a  teamster  and 
his  love  of  home  and  a  faithful  wife.  It  is  a  paltry 
measure,  endurable  only  for  its  offering  of  contrast, 
and  we  will  not  tarry  with  it,  though  the  villagers 
echo  it  merrily.  Alfio,  too,  has  seen  Turiddu,  and 
Lucia  is  about  to  express  her  surprise  when  Santuzza 
checks  her.  The  hour  of  devotion  is  come,  and  the 
choir  in  the  church  intones  the  "Regina  cceli," 
while  the  people  without  fall  on  their  knees  and  sing 
the  Resurrection  Hymn.  After  the  first  outburst, 
to  which  the  organ  appends  a  brief  postlude,  San- 
tuzza leads  in  the  canticle,  "Innegiamo  il  Signer  non 

e  morte": 

i 

Let  us  sing  of  our  Lord  ris'n  victorious  ! 
Let  us  sing  of  our  Lord  ever  glorious :  — 


SANTDZLA 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA" 


148 


gno  -  re       n   -   sor 


to, 


ft 


^ 


to 


etc. 


etc. 


etc. 


The  instrumental  basses  supply  a  foundation  of 
Bachian  granite,  the  chorus  within  the  church  inter- 
polates shouts  of  "Alleluia!"  and  the  song  swells 
until  the  gates  of  sound  fly  wide  open  and  we  forget 
the  theatre  in  a  fervor  of  religious  devotion.  Only 
the  critic  in  his  study  ought  here  to  think  of  the 
parallel  scene  which  Leoncavallo  sought  to  create  in 
his  opera. 

Thus  far  the  little  dramatic  matter  that  has  been 


144 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


introduced  is  wholly  expository ;  yet  we  are  already 
near  the  middle  of  the  score.  All  the  stage  folk 
enter  the  church  save  Santuzza  and  Lucia,  and  to 
the  mother  of  her  betrayer  the  maiden  tells  the 
story  of  her  wrongs.  The  romance  which  she  sings 
is  marked  by  the  copious  use  of  one  of  the  distin- 
guishing devices  of  the  veritist  composers  —  the 
melodic  triplet,  an  efficient  help  for  the  pushing, 
pulsating  declamation  with  which  the  dramatic 
dialogue  of  Mascagni,  Leoncavallo,  and  their  fellows 
is  carried  on.  Lucia  can  do  no  more  for  the  unfor- 
tunate than  commend  her  to  the  care  of  the  Virgin. 
She  enters  the  church  and  Turiddu  comes.  He  lies 
as  to  where  he  has  been.  Santuzza  is  quick  with 
accusation  and  reproach,  but  at  the  first  sign  of  his 
anger  and  a  hint  of  the  vengeance  which  Alfio  will 
take  she  abases  herself.  Let  him  beat  and  insult 
her,  she  will  love  and  pardon  though  her  heart  break. 
She  is  in  the  extremity  of  agony  and  anguish  when 
Lola  is  heard  trolling  a  careless  song :  — 


i 


st 


Fior  di     giag  -  gio    -   lo.  .    .     gli  an-ge  -  li    bel  -  li 


stan  -  no  a  mil  -  le  in   cie   -    lo.   .    . 


She  is  about  to  begin  a  second  stanza  when  she 
enters  and  sees  the  pair.    She  stops  with  an  exela- 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA"  145 

mation.  She  says  she  is  seeking  Alfio.  Is  Turiddu 
not  going  to  mass?  Santuzza,  significantly :  "It  is 
Easter  and  the  Lord  sees  all  things  !  None  but  the 
blameless  should  go  to  mass."  But  Lola  will  go, 
and  so  will  Turiddu.  Scorning  Santuzza' 's  pleadings 
and  at  last  hurling  her  to  the  ground,  he  rushes  into 
the  church.  She  shouts  after  him  a  threat  of  Easter 
vengeance  and  fate  sends  the  agent  to  her  in  the 
very  moment.  Alfio  comes  and  Santuzza  tells  him 
that  Turiddu  has  cuckolded  him  and  Lola  has  robbed 
her  of  her  lover :  — 

Turiddu  mi  tolse,  mi  tolse  1'onore, 
E  vostra  moglie  lui  rapiva  a  me  ! 
Largo 

~?iMR:T>  fB  -  - 


Tu  -  rid   -   du    mi  tol    -   se     mi,  tol-se    I'o  -no -re  I 

The  oncoming  waves  of  the  drama's  pathos  have 
risen  to  a  supreme  height,  their  crests  have  broken, 
and  the  wind-blown  spume  drenches  the  soul  of  the 
listeners ;  but  the  composer  has  not  departed  from 
the  first  principle  of  the  master  of  whom,  for  a  time, 
it  was  hoped  he  might  be  the  legitimate  successor. 
Melody  remains  the  life-blood  of  his  music  as  it  is 
that  of  Verdi's  from  his  first  work  to  his  last; — as 
it  will  be  so  long  as  music  endures. 

Terrible  is  the  outbreak  of  Alfio 's  rage :  — 

Infami  lero,  ad  esse  non  perdono, 
Vendetta  avro  pria  che  tra  monti  il  di. 


146 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


^r  -  *i  I 


•f-       •+-• 


f 


do 


-    no,          ven-det  -  ta       avro, 


etc. 


Upon  this  storm  succeeds  the  calm  of  the  inter- 
mezzo —  in  its  day  the  best  abused  and  most  hack- 
neyed piece  of  music  that  the  world  knew;  yet  a 
triumph  of  simple,  straightforward  tune.  It  echoes 
the  Easter  hymn,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult  of 
earthly  passion  proclaims  celestial  peace.  Its  in- 
strumentation was  doubtless  borrowed  from  Hell- 


"CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA" 


14? 


mesberger's  arrangement  of  the  air  "Ombra  mai 
fu"  from  "Serse,"  known  the  world  over  as  Handel's 
"Largo"  —  violins  in  unison,  harp  arpeggios,  and 
organ  harmonies.  In  nothing  artistically  distin- 
guished it  makes  an  unexampled  appeal  to  the  mul- 
titude. Some  years  ago  a  burlesque  on  "  Cavalleria 
rusticana"  was  staged  at  a  theatre  in  Vienna.  14 


was  part  of  the  witty  conceit  of  the  author  to  have 
the  intermezzo  played  on  a  handorgan.  Up  to  this 
point  the  audience  had  been  hilarious  in  its  enjoy- 
ment of  the  burlesque,  but  with  the  first  wheezy 
tones  from  the  grinder  the  people  settled  down  to 
silent  attention ;  and  when  the  end  came  applause  for 
the  music  rolled  out  wave  after  wave.  A  burlesque 
performance  could  not  rob  that  music  of  its  charm. 


148 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


lie  missa  est.  Mass  is  over.  The  merry  music  of 
the  first  chorus  returns.  The  worshippers  are  about 
to  start  homeward  with  pious  reflections,  when 
Turiddu  detains  Lola  and  invites  his  neighbors  to  a 
glass  of  Mamma  Lucia's  wine.  We  could  spare  the 
drinking  song  as  easily  as  Alfio,  entering,  turns  aside 
the  cup  which  Turiddu  proffers  him.  Turiddu 
understands.  "I  await  your  pleasure."  Some  of 
the  women  apprehend  mischief  and  lead  Lola  away. 
The  challenge  is  given  and  accepted,  Sicilian  fashion. 
Turiddu  confesses  his  wrong-doing  to  Alfio,  but,  in- 
stead of  proclaiming  his  purpose  to  kill  his  enemy, 
he  asks  protection  for  Santuzza  in  case  of  his  death. 
Then,  while  the  violins  tremble  and  throb,  he  calls 
for  his  mother  like  an  errant  child  :  — 


Con  anima 


He  has  been  too  free  with  the  winecup,  he  says,  and 
must  leave  her.  But  first  her  blessing,  as  when  he 
went  away  to  be  a  soldier.  Should  he  not  return, 
Santa  must  be  her  care:  "Voi  dovrete  fare;  da 


"CAVALLERIA  KUSTICANA"  149 

madre  a  Santa  ! "  It  is  the  cry  of  a  child.  "A  kiss  ! 
Another  kiss,  mamma  !  Farewell ! "  Lucia  calls  after 
him.  He  is  gone,  Santuzza  comes  in  with  her  phrase 
of  music  descriptive  of  her  unhappy  love.  It  grows 
to  a  thunderous  crash.  Then  a  hush  !  A  fateful 
chord  i  A  whispered  roll  of  the  drums  !  A  woman 
is  heard  to  shriek:  "They  have  killed  Neighbor 
Turiddu!"  A  crowd  of  women  rush  in  excitedly; 
Santuzza  and  Lucia  fall  in  a  swoon.  "Hanno  am- 
mazzato  compare  Turiddu  ! "  The  tragedy  is  ended. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI 

IT  would  be  foolish  to  question  or  attempt  to 
deny  the  merits  of  the  type  of  Italian  opera  estab- 
lished by  Mascagni's  lucky  inspiration.  The  brev- 
ity of  the  realistic  little  tragedy,  the  swiftness  of  its 
movement,  its  adherence  to  the  Italian  ideal  of 
melody  first,  its  ingenious  combination  of  song  with  an 
illuminative  orchestral  part — these  elements  in  union 
created  a  style  which  the  composers  of  Italy,  France, 
and  Germany  were  quick  to  adopt.  "Pagliacci" 
was  the  first  fruit  of  the  movement  and  has  been 
the  most  enduring;  indeed,  so  far  as  America  and 
England  are  concerned,  "Cavalleria  rusticana" 
and  "Pagliacci"  are  the  only  products  of  the  school 
which  have  obtained  a  lasting  footing.  They  were 
followed  by  a  flood  of  Italian,  French,  and  German 
works  in  which  low  life  was  realistically  portrayed, 
but,  though  the  manner  of  composition  was  as  easily 
copied  as  the  subjects  were  found  in  the  slums, 
none  of  the  imitators  of  Mascagni  and  Leoncavallo 
achieved  even  a  tithe  of  their  success.  The  men 
themselves  were  too  shrewd  and  wise  to  attempt  to 
repeat  the  experiment  which  had  once  been  trium- 
phant. 

150 


THE  CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI  151 

In  one  respect  the  influence  of  the  twin  operas  was 
deplorable.  I  have  attempted  to  characterize  that 
influence  in  general  terms,  but  in  order  that  the 
lesson  may  be  more  plainly  presented  it  seems  to 
me  best  to  present  a  few  examples  in  detail.  The 
eagerness  with  which  writers  sought  success  in 
moral  muck,  regardless  of  all  artistic  elements,  is 
strikingly  illustrated  in  an  attempt  by  a  German 
writer,  Edmund  von  Freihold,1  to  provide  "Caval- 
leria  rusticana"  with  a  sequel.  Von  Freihold  wrote 
the  libretto  for  a  "music  drama"  which  he  called 
"Santuzza,"  the  story  of  which  begins  long  enough 
after  the  close  of  Verga's  story  for  both  the  women 
concerned  in  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  to  have  grown 
children.  Santuzza  has  given  birth  to  a  son  named 
Massimo,  and  Lola  to  a  daughter,  Anita.  The 
youthful  pair  grow  up  side  by  side  in  the  Sicilian 
village  and  fall  in  love  with  one  another.  They 
might  have  married  and  in  a  way  expiated  the  sins 
of  their  parents  had  not  Alfio  overheard  his  wife, 
Lola,  confess  that  Turiddu,  not  her  husband,  is  the 
father  of  Anita.  The  lovers  are  thus  discovered  to 
be  half  brother  and  sister.  This  reminder  of  his 
betrayal  by  Lola  infuriates  Alfio  anew.  He  rushes 
upon  his  wife  to  kill  her,  but  Santuzza,  who  hates 
him  as  the  slayer  of  her  lover,  throws  herself  between 
and  plunges  her  dagger  in  Alfio's  heart.  Having 
thus  taken  revenge  for  Turiddu's  death,  Santuzza 
dies  out  of  hand,  Lola,  as  an  inferior  character,  falls 

*I  owe  this  illustration  to  Ferdinand  Kohl's  book  "Die 
Moderne  Oper." 


152  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

in  a  faint,  and  Massimo  makes  an  end  of  the  delectable 
story  by  going  away  from  there  to  parts  unknown. 

In  Cilea's  "Tilda"  a  street  singer  seeks  to  avenge 
her  wrongs  upon  a  faithless  lover.  She  bribes  a 
jailor  to  connive  at  the  escape  of  a  robber  whom  he 
is  leading  to  capital  punishment.  This  robber  she 
elects  to  be  the  instrument  of  her  vengeance.  Right 
merrily  she  lives  with  him  and  his  companions  in 
the  greenwood  until  the  band  captures  the  renegade 
lover  on  his  wedding  journey.  Tilda  rushes  upon 
the  bride  with  drawn  dagger,  but  melts  with  com- 
passion when  she  sees  her  victim  in  the  attitude  of 
prayer.  She  sinks  to  her  knees  beside  her,  only  to 
receive  the  death-blow  from  her  seducer.  There 
are  piquant  contrasts  in  this  picture  and  Ave 
Marias  and  tarantellas  in  the  music. 

Take  the  story  of  Giordano's  "Mala  Vita." 
Here  the  hero  is  a  young  dyer  whose  dissolute 
habits  have  brought  on  tuberculosis  of  the  lungs. 
The  principal  object  of  his  amours  is  the  wife  of  a 
friend.  A  violent  hemorrhage  warns  him  of  ap- 
proaching death.  Stricken  with  fear  he  rushes  to 
the  nearest  statue  of  the  Madonna  and  registers  a 
vow ;  he  will  marry  a  wanton,  effect  her  redemption, 
thereby  hoping  to  save  his  own  miserable  life.  The 
heroine  of  the  opera  appears  and  she  meets  his 
requirements.  He  marries  her  and  for  a  while 
she  seems  blest.  But  the  siren,  the  Lola  in  the  case, 
winds  her  toils  about  him  as  the  disease  stretches 
Mm  on  the  floor  at  her  feet.  Piquancy  again, 


153 

achieved   now  without  that  poor  palliative,   pun- 
ishment of  the  evil-doer. 

Tasca's  "A  Santa  Lucia"  has  an  appetizing  story 
about  an  oysterman's  son  who  deserts  a  woman  by 
whom  he  has  a  child,  in  order  to  marry  one  to  whom 
he  had  previously  been  affianced.  The  women 
meet.  There  is  a  dainty  brawl,  and  the  fiancee  of 
Cicillo  (he's  the  oysterman's  son)  strikes  her  rival's 
child  to  the  ground.  The  mother  tries  to  stab  the 
fiancee  with  the  operatic  Italian  woman's  ever- 
ready  dagger,  and  this  act  stirs  up  the  embers  of 
Cicillo's  love.  He  takes  the  mother  of  his  child  back 
home  —  to  his  father's  house,  that  is.  The  child 
must  be  some  four  years  old  by  this  time,  but  the 
oysterman  —  dear,  unsuspecting  old  man  !  —  knows 
nothing  about  the  relation  existing  between  his  son 
and  his  housekeeper.  He  is  thinking  of  marriage 
with  his  common  law  daughter-in-law  when  in 
comes  the  old  fiancee  with  a  tale  for  Cicillo's  ears 
of  his  mistress's  unfaithfulness.  "  It  is  not  true  ! " 
shrieks  the  poor  woman,  but  the  wretch,  her  seducer, 
closes  his  ears  to  her  protestations ;  and  she  throws 
herself  into  the  sea,  where  the  oysters  come  from. 
Cicillo  rushes  after  her  and  bears  her  to  the  shore, 
where  she  dies  in  his  arms,  gasping  in  articulo  mortis, 
"It  is  not  true!" 


The  romantic  interest  in  Mascagni's  life  is  con- 
fined to  the  period  which  preceded  his  sudden  rise 


154  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

to  fame.  His  father  was  a  baker  in  Leghorn,  and 
there  he  was  born  on  December  7,  1863.  Of  humble 
origin  and  occupation  himself,  the  father,  never- 
theless, had  large  ambitions  for  his  son ;  but  not  in 
the  line  of  art.  Pietro  was  to  be  shaped  intellec- 
tually for  the  law.  Like  Handel,  the  boy  studied 
the  pianoforte  by  stealth  in  the  attic.  Grown  in 
years,  he  began  attending  a  music-school,  when, 
it  is  said,  his  father  confined  him  to  his  house; 
thence  his  uncle  freed  him  and  took  over  his  care 
upon  himself.  Singularly  enough,  the  man  who  at 
the  height  of  his  success  posed  as  the  most  Italian 
of  Italian  masters  had  his  inspiration  first  stirred 
by  German  poetry.  Early  in  his  career  Beethoven 
resolved  to  set  Schiller's  "Hymn  to  Joy";  the 
purpose  remained  in  his  mind  for  forty  years  or  so, 
and  finally  became  a  realization  hi  the  finale  of  the 
Ninth  Symphony.  Pietro  Mascagni  resolved  as  a 
boy  to  compose  music  for  the  same  ode ;  and  did  it 
at  once.  Then  he  set  to  work  upon  a  two-act  opera, 
"II  Filanda."  His  uncle  died,  and  a  Count  Flores- 
tan  (here  is  another  Beethovenian  echo  !)  sent  him 
to  the  Conservatory  at  Milan,  where,  like  nearly 
all  of  his  native  contemporaries,  he  imbibed  knowl- 
edge (and  musical  ideas)  from  Ponchielli. 

After  two  years  or  so  of  academic  study  he  yielded 
to  a  gypsy  desire  and  set  out  on  his  wanderings,  but 
not  until  he  had  chosen  as  a  companion  Maffei's 
translation  of  Heine's  "Ratcliff"  —  a  gloomy  ro- 
mance which  seems  to  have  eaught  the  fancy  of 


THE  CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI  155 

many  composers.  There  followed  five  years  of  as 
checkered  a  life  as  ever  musician  led.  Over  and 
over  again  he  was  engaged  as  conductor  of  an  itiner- 
ant or  stationary  operetta  and  opera  company, 
only  to  have  the  enterprise  fail  and  leave  him 
stranded.  For  six  weeks  in  Naples  his  daily  ration 
was  a  plate  of  macaroni.  But  he  worked  at  his 
opera  steadily,  although,  as  he  once  remarked,  his 
dreams  of  fame  were  frequently  swallowed  up  in 
the  growls  of  his  stomach,  which  caused  him  more 
trouble  than  many  a  millionaire  suffers  from  too 
little  appetite  or  too  much  gout.  Finally,  convinced 
that  he  could  do  better  as  a  teacher  of  the  piano- 
forte, he  ran  away  from  an  engagement  which  paid 
him  two  dollars  a  day,  and,  sending  off  the  manu- 
script of  "Rat cliff"  in  a  portmanteau,  settled  down 
in  Cerignola.  There  he  became  director  of  a  school 
for  orchestral  players,  though  he  had  first  to  learn 
to  play  the  instruments ;  he  also  taught  pianoforte 
and  thoroughbass,  and  eked  out  a  troublous  exist- 
ence until  his  success  in  competition  for  the  prize 
offered  by  Sonzogno,  the  Milanese  publisher,  made 
him  famous  in  a  day  and  started  him  on  the  road  to 
wealth. 

It  was  but  natural  that,  after  "Cavalleria  rusti- 
cana"  had  virulently  affected  the  whole  world 
with  what  the  enemies  of  Signor  Mascagni  called 
"Mascagnitis,"  his  next  opera  should  be  looked 
forward  to  with  feverish  anxiety.  There  was  but 
a  year  to  wait,  for  "L'Amico  Fritz"  was  brought 


156  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

forward  in  Rome  on  the  last  day  of  October,  1891. 
Within  ten  weeks  its  title  found  a  place  on  the  pro- 
gramme of  one  of  Mr.  Walter  Damrosch's  Sunday 
night  concerts  in  New  York ;  but  the  music  was  a 
disappointment.  Five  numbers  were  sung  by  Mme. 
Tavary  and  Signer  Campanini,  and  Mr.  Damrosch, 
not  having  the  orchestral  parts,  played  the  accom- 
paniments upon  a  pianoforte.  As  usual,  Mr.  Gustav 
Hinrichs  was  to  the  fore  with  a  performance  in 
Philadelphia  (on  June  8,  1892),  the  principal  singers 
being  Mme.  Koert-Kronold,  Clara  Poole,  M.  Guille, 
and  Signor  Del  Puente.  On  January  31,  1893,  the 
Philadelphia  singers,  aided  by  the  New  York  Sym- 
phony Society,  gave  a  performance  of  the  opera, 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Young  Men's  Hebrew 
Association,  for  the  benefit  of  its  charities,  at  the 
Carnegie  Music  Hall,  New  York.  Mr.  Walter 
Damrosch  was  to  have  conducted,  but  was  de- 
tained in  Washington  by  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Elaine, 
and  Mr.  Hinrichs  took  his  place.  Another  year 
elapsed,  and  then,  on  January  10,  1894,  the  opera 
reached  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House.  In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  Madame  Calve"  sang  the  part 
of  Suzel,  only  two  performances  were  given  to  the 
work. 

The  failure  of  this  opera  did  not  dampen  the 
industry  of  Mascagni  nor  the  zeal  of  his  enterprising 
publishers.  For  his  next  opera  the  composer  went 
again  to  the  French  authors,  Erckmann-Chatrian, 
who  had  supplied  him  with  the  story  of  "L'Amico 


THE  CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI  157 

Fritz."  This  time  he  chose  "Les  deux  Freres," 
which  they  had  themselves  turned  into  a  drama 
with  the  title  of  "Rantzau."  Mascagni's  librettist 
retained  the  title.  The  opera  came  out  in  Florence 
in  1892.  The  tremendous  personal  popularity  of 
the  composer,  who  was  now  as  much  a  favorite 
in  Vienna  and  Berlin  as  he  was  in  the  town  of 
his  birth  which  had  struck  a  medal  in  his  honor, 
or  the  town  of  his  residence  which  had  created 
him  an  honorary  citizen,  could  not  save  the 
work. 

Now  he  turned  to  the  opera  which  he  had  laid 
aside  to  take  up  his  "Cavalleria,"  and  in  1895 
"  Guglielmo  Ratcliff,"  based  upon  the  gloomy  Scotch 
story  told  by  Heine,  was  brought  forward  at  La 
Scala,  in  Milan.  It  was  in  a  sense  the  child  of  his 
penury  and  suffering,  but  he  had  taken  it  up  in- 
spired by  tremendous  enthusiasm  for  the  subject, 
and  inasmuch  as  most  of  its  music  had  been  written 
before  success  had  turned  his  head,  or  desire  for 
notoriety  had  begun  to  itch  him,  there  was  reason 
to  hope  to  find  in  it  some  of  the  hot  blood  which 
surges  through  the  score  of  "Cavalleria."  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  critics  who  have  seen  the  score  or 
heard  the  work  have  pointed  out  that  portions  of 
"I  Rantzau"  and  "Cavalleria"  are  as  alike  as  two 
peas.  It  would  not  be  a  violent  assumption  that 
the  composer  in  his  eagerness  to  get  his  score  be- 
fore the  Sonzogno  jury  had  plucked  his  early  work 
of  its  best  feathers  and  found  it  difficult  to  restore 


158  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

plumage  of  equal  brilliancy  when  he  attempted  to 
make  restitution.  In  the  same  year,  1895,  his  next 
opera,  "Silvano,"  made  a  fiasco  in  Milan.  A  year 
later  there  appeared  "Zanetto,"  which  seems  like 
an  effort  to  contract  the  frame  of  the  lyric  drama 
still  further  than  is  done  in  "Cavalleria."  It  is  a 
bozzetto,  a  sketch,  based  on  CoppeVs  duologue  "Le 
Passant,"  a  scene  between  a  strumpet  who  is  weary 
of  the  world  and  a  young  minstrel.  Its  orchestra- 
tion is  unique  —  there  are  but  strings  and  a  harp.  It 
was  brought  out  at  Pesaro,  where,  in  1895,  Mascagni 
had  been  appointed  director  of  the  Liceo  Musicale 
Rossini. 

As  director  of  the  music-school  in  Rossini's 
native  town  Mascagni's  days  were  full  of  trouble 
from  the  outset.  He  was  opposed,  said  his  friends, 
in  reformatory  efforts  by  some  of  the  professors  and 
pupils,  whose  enmity  grew  so  virulent  that  in  1897 
they  spread  the  story  that  he  had  killed  himself. 
He  was  deposed  from  his  position  by  the  adminis- 
tration, but  reinstated  by  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts. 
The  criticism  followed  him  for  years  that  he  had 
neglected  his  duties  to  travel  about  Europe,  giving 
concerts  and  conducting  his  operas  for  the  greater 
glory  of  himself  and  the  profit  of  his  publisher.  At 
the  tune  of  the  suicide  story  it  was  also  said  that  he 
was  in  financial  straits ;  to  which  his  friends  replied 
that  he  received  a  salary  of  60  lire  ($12)  a  day  as 
director,  1000  lire  ($200)  a  month  from  Sonzogno, 
and  lived  in  a  princely  dwelling. 


THE  CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI  15S 

After  "Zanetto"  came  "Iris,"  to  which,  as  the 
one  opera  besides  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  which 
has  remained  in  the  American  repertory,  I  shall 
devote  the  next  chapter  in  this  book.  "Iris"  was 
followed  by  "Le  Maschere,"  which  was  brought  out 
on  January  17,  1901,  simultaneously  in  six  cities 
—  Rome,  Milan,  Venice,  Genoa,  Turin,  and  Naples. 
It  made  an  immediate  failure  in  all  of  these  places 
except  Rome,  where  it  endured  but  a  short  time. 
Mascagni's  next  operatic  work  was  a  lyric  drama, 
entitled  "Vistilia,"  the  libretto  of  which,  based 
upon  an  historical  novel  by  Racco  de  Zerbi,  was 
written  by  Menasci  and  Targioni-Tozzetti,  who 
collaborated  on  the  book  of  "Cavalleria  rusticana." 
The  action  goes  back  to  the  time  of  Tiberius  and 
deals  with  the  loves  of  Vistilia  and  Helius.  Then 
came  another  failure  in  the  shape  of  "Arnica," 
which  lived  out  its  life  in  Monte  Carlo,  where  it 
was  produced  in  March,  1905. 

In  the  winter  of  1902-1903  Signer  Mascagni  was 
in  the  United  States  for  the  purpose  of  conducting 
performances  of  some  of  his  operas  and  giving  con- 
certs. The  company  of  singers  and  instrumental- 
ists which  his  American  agents  had  assembled  for 
his  purpose  was,  with  a  few  exceptions,  composed 
of  the  usual  operatic  flotsam  and  jetsam  which  can 
be  picked  up  at  any  time  in  New  York.  The  enter- 
prise began  in  failure  and  ended  in  scandal.  There 
had  been  no  adequate  preparation  for  the  operas 
announced,  and  one  of  them  was  not  attempted. 


160  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

This  was  "Ratcliff."  "Cavalleria  rusticana,"  "Za- 
netto,"  and  "Iris"  were  poorly  performed  at  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House  in  October,  and  an 
attempt  at  Sunday  night  concerts  was  made. 
Signor  Mascagni's  countrymen  labored  hard  to 
create  enthusiasm  for  his  cause,  but  the  general 
public  remained  indifferent.  Having  failed  miser- 
ably in  New  York,  Mascagni,  heavily  burdened  with 
debt,  went  to  Boston.  There  he  was  arrested  for 
breach  of  contract.  He  retaliated  with  a  suit  for 
damages  against  his  American  managers.  The 
usual  amount  of  crimination  and  recrimination  fol- 
lowed, but  eventually  the  difficulties  were  com- 
pounded and  Mascagni  went  back  to  his  home  a 
sadly  disillusionized  man.1 

"Zanetto"  was  produced  along  with  "Cavalleria 
rusticana"  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  on 
October  8,  1902,  and  "Iris"  on  October  16.  Signor 
Mascagni  conducted  and  the  parts  were  distributed 
as  follows  among  the  singers  of  the  company: 
Iris,  Marie  Farneti ;  Osaka,  Pietro  Schiavazzi ; 
Kyoto,  Virgilio  Bollati ;  II  Cieco,  Francesco 
Navarrim;  Una  Guecha,  Dora  de  Filippe;  Un 
Mercianola,  Pasquale  Blasio ;  Un  Cencianola,  Ber- 
nardino Landino.  .  The  opera  was  not  heard  of 
again  until  the  season  of  1907-1908,  when,  just  be- 


1  The  story  of  this  visit  is  told  in  greater  detail  in  my  "  Chap- 
ters of  Opera,"  as  is  also  the  story  of  the  rivalry  among  Ameri- 
can managers  to  be  first  in  the  field  with  "  Cavalleria  rusti- 
cana." 


THE  CAREER  OF  MASCAGNI  161 

fore  the  end  of  the  administration  of  Heinrich  Con- 
ned, it  was  incorporated  into  the  repertory  of  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House  apparently  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  Mme.  Emma  Eames  an  opportunity 
to  vie  with  Miss  Geraldine  Farrar  in  Japanese  opera. 


QHAPTER  XI 


"LIGHT  is  the  language  of  the  eternal  ones  — 
hear  it!"  proclaims  the  librettist  of  "Iris"  in  that 
portion  of  his  book  which  is  neither  said  nor  sung 
nor  played.  And  it  is  the  sun  that  sings  with 
divers  voices  after  the  curtain  has  risen  on  a  noc- 
turnal scene,  and  the  orchestra  has  sought  to  depict 
the  departure  of  the  night,  the  break  of  day,  the 
revivification  of  the  flowers  and  the  sunrise.  As 
Byron  sang  of  him,  so  Phcebus  Apollo  celebrates 
himself  as  "the  god  of  life  and  poetry  and  light," 
but  does  not  stop  there.  He  is  also  Infinite  Beauty, 
Cause,  Reason,  Poetry,  and  Love.  The  music  be- 
gins with  an  all  but  inaudible  descending  passage  in 
the  basses,  answered  by  sweet  concordant  harmonies. 
A  calm  song  tells  of  the  first  streaks  of  light ;  wood- 
wind and  harp  add  their  voices ;  a  mellifluous  hymn 
chants  the  stirring  flowers,  and  leads  into  a  rhyth- 
mically, more  incisive,  but  still  sustained,  orchestral 
song,  which  bears  upon  its  surface  the  choral  procla- 
mation of  the  sun :  "  I  am !  I  am  life !  I  am  Beauty 
infinite !"  The  flux  and  reflux  of  the  instrumental 
surge  grows  in  intensity,  the  music  begins  to  glow 

162 


"IRIS"  163 

with  color  and  pulsate  with  eager  life,  and  reaches 
a  mighty  sonority,  gorged  with  the  crash  of  a 
multitude  of  tamtams,  cymbals,  drums,  and  bells, 
at  the  climacteric  reiteration  of  " Galore!  Luce! 
Amor!"  The  piece  is  thriUingly  effective,  but  as 
little  operatic  as  the  tintinnabulatory  chant  of  the 
cherubim  in  the  prologue  of  Boito's  "Mefistofele." 
And  now  allegory  makes  room  for  the  drama. 
To  the  door  of  her  cottage,  embowered  on  the  banks 
of  a  quiet  stream,  comes  7ns.  The  peak  of  Fuji- 
yama glows  in  the  sunlight.  7ns  is  fair  and  youth- 
ful and  innocent.  A  dream  has  disturbed  her. 
"Gorgons  and  Hydras  and  Chimseras  dire"  had 
filled  her  garden  and  threatened  her  doll,  which  she 
had  put  to  sleep  under  a  rose-bush.  But  the  sun's 
rays  burst  forth  and  the  monsters  flee.  She  lifts 
her  doll  and  moves  its  arms  in  mimic  salutation  to 
the  sun.  Osaka,  a  wealthy  rake,  and  Kyoto,  a 
pander,  play  spy  on  her  actions,  gloat  on  her  love- 
liness and  plot  to  steal  her  and  carry  her  to  the 
Yoshiwara.  To  this  end  they  go  to  bring  on  a 
puppet  show,  that  its  diversion  may  enable  them  to 
steal  her  away  without  discovery.  Women  come 
down  to  the  banks  of  the  river  and  sing  pretty  meta- 
phors as  they  wash  their  basketloads  of  muslins. 
Gradually  the  music  of  samisens,  gongs,  and  drums 
approaches.  Osaka  and  Kyoto  have  disguised 
themselves  as  travelling  players,  gathered  together 
some  geishas  and  musicians,  and  now  set  up  a 
marionette  theatre.  Iris  comforts  her  blind  father, 


1.64  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

the  only  object  of  her  love,  besides  her  doll,  and 
promises  to  remain  at  his  side.  The  puppet  play 
tells  the  story  of  a  maiden  who  suffers  abuse  from 
a  cruel  father,  who  threatens  to  sell  her  to  a  mer- 
chant. Iris  is  much  affected  by  the  sorrows  of  the 
puppet.  The  voice  of  Jor,  the  son  of  the  sun,  is 
heard  —  it  is  Osaka,  singing  without.  The  melody 
is  the  melody  of  Turridu's  Siciliano,  but  the  words 
are  a  promise  of  a  blissful,  kissful  death  and  there- 
after life  everlasting.  The  puppet  dies  and  with 
Jor  dances  off  into  Nirvana.  Now  three  geishas, 
representing  Beauty,  Death,  and  the  Vampire,  be- 
gin a  dance.  Kyoto  distracts  the  attention  of  the 
spectators  while  the  dancers  flaunt  their  skirts 
higher  and  wider  until  their  folds  conceal  Iris,  and 
Osaka's  hirelings  seize  her  and  bear  her  off  toward 
the  city.  Kyoto  places  a  letter  and  money  at  the 
cottage  door  for  the  blind  father.  Through  a  ped- 
ler  and  the  woman  he  learns  that  his  daughter  is 
gone  to  be  an  inmate  of  the  Yoshiwara.  He  im- 
plores the  people  who  had  been  jeering  him  to  lead 
him  thither,  that  he  may  spit  in  her  face  and  curse 
her. 

Iris  is  asleep  upon  a  bed  in  the  "Green  House" 
of  the  district,  which  needs  no  description.  A  song, 
accompanied  by  the  twanging  of  a  samisen  and  the 
clanging  of  tamtams,  is  sung  by  three  geishas. 
Kyoto  brings  in  Osaka  to  admire  her  beauty,  and  sets 
a  high  price  upon  it.  Osaka  sends  for  jewels.  Iris 
awakes  and  speculates  in  philosophical  vein  touch- 


"IRIS"  165 

ing  the  question  of  her  existence.  She  cannot  be 
dead,  for  death  brings  knowledge  and  paradise  joy ; 
but  she  weeps.  Osaka  appears.  He  praises  her 
rapturously  —  her  form,  her  hair,  her  eyes,  her 
mouth,  her  smile.  Iris  thinks  him  veritably  Jor, 
but  he  says  his  name  is  "  Pleasure/'  The  maiden 
recoils  in  terror.  A  priest  had  taught  her  in  an 
allegory  that  Pleasure  and  Death  were  one  !  Osaka 
loads  her  with  jewels,  fondles  her,  draws  her  to  his 
breast,  kisses  her  passionately.  Iris  weeps.  She 
knows  nothing  of  passion,  and  longs  only  for  her 
father,  her  cottage,  and  her  garden.  Osaka  wearies 
of  his  guest,  but  Kyoto  plans  to  play  still  further 
upon  his  lust.  He  clothes  her  in  richer  robes,  but 
more  transparent,  places  her  upon  a  balcony,  and, 
withdrawing  a  curtain,  exhibits  her  beauty  to  the 
multitude  in  the  street.  Amazed  cries  greet  the 
revelation.  Osaka  returns  and  pleads  for  her  love. 
"Iris!"  It  is  the  cry  of  the  blind  man  hunting 
the  child  whom  he  thinks  has  sold  herself  into  dis- 
graceful slavery.  The  crowd  falls  back  before  him, 
while  Iris  rushes  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  veranda 
and  cries  out  to  him,  that  he  may  know  her  presence. 
He  gathers  a  handful  of  mud  from  the  street  and 
hurls  it  in  the  direction  of  her  voice.  "  There ! 
In  your  face  !  In  your  forehead  !  In  your  mouth  ! 
In  your  eyes!  Fango!"  Under  the  imprecations 
of  her  father  the  mind  of  Ms  gives  way.  She 
rushes  along  a  corridor  and  hurls  herself  out  of  a 
window. 


166 

The  third  act  is  reached,  and  drama  merges  again 
into  allegory.  In  the  wan  light  of  the  moon  rag- 
pickers, men  and  women,  are  dragging  their  hooks 
through  the  slimy  muck  that  flows  through  the 
open  sewer  beneath  the  fatal  window.  They  sing 
mockingly  to  the  moon.  A  flash  of  light  from 
Fujiyama  awakens  a  glimmer  in  the  filth.  Again. 
They  rush  forward  and  pull  forth  the  body  of  Iris 
and  begin  to  strip  it  of  its  adornments.  She  moves 
and  they  fly  in  superstitious  fear.  She  recovers 
consciousness,  and  voices  from  invisible  singers 
tell  her  of  the  selfish  inspirations  of  Osaka,  Kyoto^ 
and  her  blind  father;  Osaka's  desire  baffled  by 
fate  —  such  is  life  !  Kyoto's  slavery  to  pleasure  and 
a  hangman's  reward ;  —  such  is  life  !  The  blind 
man's  dependence  on  his  child  for  creature  com- 
forts ;  —  such  is  life  !  Iris  bemoans  her  fate  as 
death  comes  gently  to  her.  The  sky  grows  rosy  and 
the  light  brings  momentary  life.  She  stretches  out 
her  arms  to  the  sun  and  acclaims  the  growing  orb. 
As  once  upon  Ida  — 

Glad  earth  perceives  and  from  her  bosom  pours 
Unbidden  herbs  and  voluntary  fiow'rs  ! 

A  field  of  blossoms  spreads  around  her,  into  which 
she  sinks,  while  the  sun,  again  many-voiced  and 
articulate,  chants  his  glory  as  in  the  beginning. 

The  story  is  perhaps  prettier  in  the  telling  than 
in  the  performance.  What  there  is  in  its  symbolism 
and  its  poetical  suggestion  that  is  ingratiating  is 


"IRIS"  167 

more  effective  in  the  fancy  than  in  the  experience. 
There  are  fewer  clogs,  fewer  stagnant  pools,  fewer 
eddies  which  whirl  to  no  purpose.  In  the  modern 
school,  with  its  distemper  music  put  on  in  splotches, 
there  must  be  more  merit  and  action.  Psychologi- 
cal delineation  in  music  which  stimulates  action, 
or  makes  one  forget  the  want  of  outward  movement, 
demands  a  different  order  of  genius  than  that  which 
Signer  Mascagni  possesses.  Mere  talent  for  artful 
device  will  not  suffice.  There  are  many  effective 
bits  of  expressive  writing  in  the  score  of  "Iris," 
but  most  of  them  are  fugitive  and  aim  at  coloring  a 
word,  a  phrase,  or  at  best  a  temporary  situation. 
There  is  little  flow  of  natural,  fervent  melody. 
What  the  composer  accomplished  with  tune,  char- 
acteristic but  fluent,  eloquent  yet  sustained,  in 
"Cavalleria  rusticana,"  he  tries  to  achieve  in 
"Iris"  with  violent,  disjointed  shifting  of  keys  and 
splashes  of  instrumental  color.  In  this  he  is  sel- 
dom successful,  for  he  is  not  a  master  of  orchestral 
writing  —  that  technical  facility  which  nearly  all 
the  young  musicians  have  in  the  same  degree  that 
all  pianists  have  finger  technic.  His  orchestral 
stream  is  muddy;  his  effects  generally  crass  and 
empty  of  euphony.  He  throws  the  din  of  outlandish 
instruments  of  percussion,  a  battery  of  gongs,  big 
and  little,  drums,  and  cymbals  into  his  score  without 
achieving  local  color.  Once  only  does  he  utilize 
it  so  as  to  catch  the  ears  and  stir  the  fancy  of  his 
listeners  —  in  the  beginning  of  the  second  act, 


168  A  SECOND  BOOK,  OF  OPERAS 

where  there  is  a  murmur  of  real  Japanese  melody. 
As  a  rule,  however,  Signor  Mascagni  seems  to  have 
been  careless  in  the  matter  of  local  color,  properly 
so,  perhaps,  for,  strictly  speaking,  local  color  in  the 
lyric  drama  is  for  comedy  with  its  petty  limitations, 
not  for  tragedy  with  its  appeal  to  large  and  univer- 
sal passions.  Yet  it  is  in  the  lighter  scenes,  the 
scenes  of  comedy,  like  the  marionette  show,  the 
scenes  of  mild  pathos,  like  the  monologues  of  7ns, 
and  the  scenes  of  mere  accessory  decoration,  like 
that  of  the  laundresses,  the  mousmts  in  the  first 
act,  with  its  purling  figure  borrowed  from  "Les 
Huguenots"  and  its  unnecessarily  uncanny  col  legnc 
effect  conveyed  from  "  I/ Af ricaine "  that  it  is  most 
effective. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY" 

THIS  is  the  book  of  the  generation  of  "Madama 
Butterfly" :  An  adventure  in  Japan  begat  Pierre 
Loti's  "Madame  Chrysantheme " ;  "Madame  Chry- 
santheme" begat  John  Luther  Long's  "Madame 
Butterfly,"  a  story;  "Madame  Butterfly,"  the 
story,  begat  "Madame  Butterfly,"  a  play  by  David 
Belasco;  "Madame  Butterfly,"  the  play,  begat 
"Madama  Butterfly,"  the  opera  by  Giacomo  Puc- 
cini. The  heroine  of  the  roving  French  romanticist 
is  therefore  seen  in  her  third  incarnation  in  the 
heroine  of  the  opera  book  which  L.  Illica  and  G. 
Giacosa  made  for  Puccini.  But  in  operatic  essence 
she  is  still  older,  for,  as  Dr.  Korngold,  a  Viennese 
critic,  pointed  out,  Selica  is  her  grandmother  and 
Lakme  her  cousin. 

Even  this  does  not  exhaust  her  family  history; 
there  is  something  like  a  bar  sinister  in  her  escutch- 
eon. Mr.  Belasco's  play  was  not  so  much  be- 
gotten, conceived,  or  born  of  admiration  for  Mr. 
Long's  book  as  it  was  of  despair  wrought  by  the  failure 
of  another  play  written  by  Mr.  Belasco.  This  play 
was  a  farce  entitled  "Naughty  Anthony,"  created  by 
Mr.  Belasco  in  a  moment  of  aesthetic  aberration 

169 


170 

for  production  at  the  Herald  Square  Theatre,  in 
New  York,  in  the  spring  of  1900.  Mr.  Belasco 
doesn't  think  so  now,  but  at  the  time  he  had  a 
notion  that  the  public  would  find  something  humor- 
ous and  attractive  in  the  spectacle  of  a  popular 
actress's  leg  swathed  in  several  layers  of  stocking. 
So  he  made  a  show  of  Blanche  Bates.  The  public 
refused  to  be  amused  at  the  farcical  study  in  com- 
parative anatomy,  and  when  Mr.  Belasco's  friends 
began  to  fault  him  for  having  pandered  to  a  low 
taste,  and  he  felt  the  smart  of  failure  in  addition, 
he  grew  heartily  ashamed  of  himself.  His  affairs, 
moreover,  began  to  take  on  a  desperate  aspect; 
the  season  threatened  to  be  a  ruinous  failure,  and 
he  had  no  play  ready  to  substitute  for  "Naughty 
Anthony."  Some  time  before  a  friend  had  sent 
him  Mr.  Long's  book,  but  he  had  carelessly  tossed 
it  aside.  In  his  straits  it  came  under  his  eyes 
again,  and  this  time  he  saw  a  play  in  it  —  a  play 
and  a  promise  of  financial  salvation.  It  was  late  at 
night  when  he  read  the  story,  but  he  had  come  to 
a  resolve  by  morning  and  in  his  mind's  eye  had  al- 
ready seen  his  actors  in  Japanese  dress.  The  drama 
lay  in  the  book  snugly  enough ;  it  was  only  neces- 
sary to  dig  it  out  and  materialize  it  to  the  vision. 
That  occupation  is  one  in  which  Mr.  Belasco  is  at 
home.  The  dialogue  went  to  his  actors  a  few  pages 
at  a  time,  and  the  pictures  rose  rapidly  in  his  mind. 
Something  different  from  a  stockinged  leg  now ! 
Glimpses  of  Nippon  —  its  mountains,  waters, 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  17T 

bridges,  flowers,  gardens,  geishas ;  as  a  foil  to  their 
grace  and  color  the  prosaic  figures  of  a  naval  officer 
and  an  American  Consul.  All  things  tinged  with 
the  bright  light  of  day,  the  glories  of  sunset  or  the 
super-glories  of  sunrise.  We  must  saturate  the 
fancy  of  the  audience  with  the  atmosphere  of 
Japan,  mused  Mr.  Belasco.  Therefore,  Japanese 
scenes,  my  painter !  Electrician,  your  plot  shall 
be  worked  out  as  carefully  as  the  dialogue  and  action 
of  the  play's  people.  "First  drop  discovered; 
house-lights  down ;  white  foots  with  blue  full  work 
change  of  color  at  back  of  drop ;  white  lens  on  top 
of  mountain ;  open  light  with  white,  straw,  amber, 
and  red  on  lower  part  of  drop ;  when  full  on  lower 
footlights  to  blue,"  and  so  on.  Mr.  Belasco's 
emotions,  we  know,  find  eloquent  expression  in 
stage  lights.  But  the  ear  must  be  carried  off  to  the 
land  of  enchantment  as  well  as  the  eye.  "Come, 
William  Furst,  recall  your  experiences  on  the  West- 
ern coast.  For  my  first  curtain  I  want  a  quaint, 
soft  Japanese  melody,  pp  —  you  know  how  !" 

And  so  "Madame  Butterfly,"  the  play,  was  made. 
In  two  weeks  all  was  ready,  and  a  day  after  the 
first  performance  at  the  Herald  Square  Theatre, 
on  March  5,  1900,  the  city  began  to  hum  with  eager 
comment  on  the  dramatic  intensity  of  the  scene  of 
a  Japanese  woman's  vigil,  of  the  enthralling  elo- 
quence of  a  motionless,  voiceless  figure,  looking 
steadily  through  a  hole  torn  through  a  paper  par- 
tition, with  a  sleeping  child  and  a  nodding  maid 


172  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

at  her  feet,  while  a  mimic  night  wore  on,  the  lanterns 
on  the  floor  flickered  out  one  by  one  and  the  soft- 
violins  crooned  a  melody  to  the  arpeggios  of  a  harp. 
The  season  at  the  Herald  Square  Theatre  was 
saved.  Some  time  later,  when  Mr.  Belasco  accom- 
panied Mr.  Charles  Frohman  to  London  to  put  on 
"Zaza"  at  the  Garrick  Theatre,  he  took  "Madame 
Butterfly"  with  him  and  staged  it  at  the  Duke  of 
York's  Theatre,  hard  by.  On  the  first  night  of 
"Madame  Butterfly"  Mr.  Frohman  was  at  the 
latter  playhouse,  Mr.  Belasco  at  the  former.  The 
fall  of  the  curtain  on  the  little  Japanese  play  was* 
followed  by  a  scene  of  enthusiasm  which  endured 
so  long  that  Mr.  Frohman  had  time  to  summon 
his  colleague  to  take  a  curtain  call.  At  a  stroke 
the  pathetic  play  had  made  its  fortune  in  London, 
and,  as  it  turned  out,  paved  the  way  for  a  new 
and  larger  triumph  for  Mr.  Long's  story.  The 
musical  critics  of  the  London  newspapers  came  to 
the  house  and  saw  operatic  possibilities  in  the 
drama.  So  did  Mr.  Francis  Nielson,  at  the  time 
Covent  Garden's  stage  manager,  who  sent  word  of 
the  discovery  to  Signer  Puccini.  The  composer 
came  from  Milan,  and  realized  on  the  spot  that 
the  successor  of  "Tosca"  had  been  found.  Signori 
Illica  and  Giacosa,  librettists  in  ordinary  to  Ricordi 
&  Co.,  took  the  work  of  making  the  opera  book  in 
hand.  Signer  Illica's  fancy  had  roamed  in  the 
Land  of  Flowers  before ;  he  had  written  the  libretto 
for  Mascagni's  "Iris."  The  ephemeral  life  of 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  173 

Cho-Cho-San  was  over  in  a  few  months,  but  by 
that  time  "Madama  Butterfly,"  glorified  by  music, 
had  lifted  her  wings  for  a  new  flight  in  Milan. 

It  is  an  old  story  that  many  operas  which  are 
recognized  as  masterpieces  later,  fail  to  find  ap- 
preciation or  approval  when  they  are  first  pro- 
duced. "Madama  Butterfly"  made  a  fiasco  when 
brought  forward  at  La  Scala  on  February  17, 
1904.1 

So  complete  was  the  fiasco  that  in  his  anxiety  to 
withdraw  the  work  Signer  Puccini  is  said  to  have 
offered  to  reimburse  the  management  of  the  theatre 
for  the  expenditures  entailed  by  the  production. 

1  At  this  premiere  Campanini  was  the  conductor  and  the 
cast  was  as  follows :  Butterfly,  Storchio ;  Suzuki,  Giaconia ; 
Pinkerton,  Zenatello ;  Sharpless,  De  Luca ;  Goro,  Pini-Corsi ; 
Bonzo,  Venturini ;  Yakuside,  Wulmann.  At  the  first  perform- 
ance in  London,  on  July  10,  1905,  at  Covent  Garden,  the  cast 
was :  Butterfly,  Destinn ;  Suzuki,  Lejeune ;  Pinkerton,  Caruso ; 
Sharpless,  Scotti ;  Goro,  Dufriche ;  Bonzo,  Cotreuil ;  Yakuside, 
Rossi.  Conductor,  Campanini.  After  the  revision  it  was  pro- 
duced at  Brescia  on  May  28,  1904,  with  Zenatello,  of  the  origi- 
nal cast,  Krusceniski  as  Butterfly,  and  Bellati  as  Sharpless.  The 
first  American  performances  were  in  the  English  version,  made 
by  Mrs.  R.  H.  Elkin,  by  the  Savage  Opera  Company,  which 
came  to  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York,  after  a  trial  season  in 
Washington,  on  November  12,  1906.  It  had  a  run  of  nearly 
three  months  before  it  reached  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House, 
on  February  11, 1907.  Mr.  Walter  Rothwell  conducted  the  Eng- 
lish performance,  in  which  there  were  several  changes  of  casts, 
the  original  Butterfly  being  Elza  Szamozy  (a  Hungarian  singer) ; 
Suzuki,  Harriet  Behne;  Pinkerton,  Joseph  F.  Sheehan,  and 
Sharpless,  Winifred  Goff.  Arturo  Vigna  conducted  the  first 
Italian  performance  at  the  Metropolitan,  with  Geraldine  Farrar 
as  Butterfly,  Louise  Homer  as  Suzuki,  Caruso  as  Pinkerton, 
Scotti  as  Sharpless,  and  Albert  Reiss  as  Goro. 


174  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Failures  of  this  kind  are  frequently  inexplicable, 
but  it  is  possible  that  the  unconventional  character 
of  the  story  and  the  insensibility  of  the  Italians  to 
national  musical  color  other  than  their  own,  had  a 
great  deal  to  do  with  it  in  this  case.  Whatever 
the  cause,  the  popular  attitude  toward  the  opera 
was  displayed  in  the  manner  peculiar  to  Italy,  the 
discontented  majority  whistling,  shrilling  on  house 
keys,  grunting,  roaring,  bellowing,  and  laughing 
in  the  good  old-fashioned  manner  which  might  be 
set  down  as  possessed  of  some  virtuous  merit  if 
reserved  for  obviously  stupid  creations. 

"The  Pall  Mall  Gazette"  reported  that  at  the 
time  the  composer  told  a  friend  that  on  this  fateful 
first  night  he  was  shut  up  in  a  small  room  behind 
the  scenes,  where  he  could  hear  nothing  of  what 
was  going  on  on  the  stage  or  in  the  audience-room. 
On  a  similar  occasion,  nearly  a  century  before, 
when  "The  Barber  of  Seville"  scored  an  equally 
monumental  failure,  Rossini,  in  the  conductor's 
chair,  faced  the  mob,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
clapped  his  hands  to  show  his  contempt  for  his 
judges,  then  went  home  and  composedly  to  bed. 
Puccini,  though  he  could  not  see  the  discomfiture 
of  his  opera,  was  not  permitted  to  remain  in  ig- 
norance of  it.  His  son  and  his  friends  brought 
him  the  news.  His  collaborator,  Giacosa,  rushed 
into  the  room  with  dishevelled  hair  and  staring 
eyes,  crying :  "  I  have  suffered  the  passion  of  death  ! " 
while  Signorina  Storchio  burst  into  such  a  flood  of 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  175 

tears  and  sobs  that  it  was  feared  she  would  be  ill. 
Puccini  was  cut  to  the  heart,  but  he  did  not  lose 
faith  in  the  work.  He  had  composed  it  in  love 
and  knew  its  potentialities.  His  faith  found  jus- 
tification when  he  produced  it  in  Brescia  three 
months  later  and  saw  it  start  out  at  once  on  a 
triumphal  tour  of  the  European  theatres.  His 
work  of  revision  was  not  a  large  or  comprehensive 
one.  He  divided  the  second  act  into  two  acts, 
made  some  condensations  to  relieve  the  long  strain, 
wrote  a  few  measures  of  introduction  for  the  final 
scene,  but  refused  otherwise  to  change  the  music. 
His  fine  sense  of  the  dramatic  had  told  him  correctly 
when  he  planned  the  work  that  there  ought  not  to 
be  a  physical  interruption  of  the  pathetic  vigil  out 
of  which  Blanche  Bates  in  New  York  and  Evelyn 
Millard  in  London  had  made  so  powerful  a  scene, 
but  he  yielded  to  the  compulsion  of  practical  con- 
eiderations,  trying  to  save  respect  for  his  better 
judgment  by  refusing  to  call  the  final  scene  an  act, 
though  he  permitted  the  fall  of  the  curtain;  but 
nothing  can  make  good  the  loss  entailed  by  the 
interruption.  The  mood  of  the  play  is  admirably 
preserved  in  the  music  of  the  intermezzo,  but  the 
mood  of  the  listeners  is  hopelessly  dissipated  with 
the  fall  of  the  curtain.  When  the  scene  of  the 
vigil  is  again  disclosed,  the  charm  and  the  pathos 
have  vanished,  never  to  return.  It  is  true  that  a 
rigid  application  of  the  law  of  unities  would  seem 
to  forbid  that  a  vigil  of  an  entire  night  from  eve 


176  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

till  morning  be  compressed  into  a  few  minutes; 
but  poetic  license  also  has  rights,  and  they  could 
have  been  pleaded  with  convincing  eloquence  by 
music,  with  its  marvellous  capacity  for  publishing 
the  conflicting  emotions  of  the  waiting  wife. 

* 
*     * 

His  ship  having  been  ordered  to  the  Asiatic 
station,  Benjamin  Franklin  Pinkerton,  Lieutenant 
in  the  United  States  Navy,  follows  a  custom  (not 
at  all  unusual  among  naval  officers,  if  Pierre  Loti 
is  to  be  believed)  and  for  the  summer  sojourn  in 
Japan  leases  a  Japanese  wife.  (The  word  "wife" 
is  a  euphemism  for  housekeeper,  companion,  play- 
fellow, mistress,  what  not.)  This  is  done  in  a 
manner  involving  little  ceremony,  as  is  known  to 
travellers  and  others  familiar  with  the  social  customs 
of  Nippon,  through  a  nakodo,  a  marriage  broker 
or  matrimonial  agent.  M.  Loti  called  his  man 
Kangourou ;  Mr.  Long  gave  his  the  name  of  Goro. 
That,  however,  and  the  character  of  the  simple 
proceeding  before  a  registrar  is  immaterial.  M. 
Loti,  who  assures  us  that  his  book  is  merely  some 
pages  from  a  veritable  diary,  entertains  us  with 
some  details  preliminary  to  his  launch  into  a  singular 
kind  of  domestic  existence,  which  are  interesting  as 
bearing  on  the  morals  of  the  opera  and  as  indicative 
of  the  fact  that  he  is  a  closer  observer  of  Oriental 
life  than  his  American  confrere.  He  lets  us  see 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  177 

how  merchantable  "wives"  are  chosen,  permits 
M.  Kangourou  to  exhibit  his  wares  and  expatiate 
on  their  merits.  There  is  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
China  merchant,  a  young  woman  of  great  accom- 
plishments who  can  write  "commercially"  and  has 
won  a  prize  in  a  poetic  contest  with  a  sonnet.  She 
is,  consequently,  very  dear  — 100  yen,  say  $100  — 
but  that  is  of  no  consequence ;  what  matters  is 
that  she  has  a  disfiguring  scar  on  her  cheek.  She 
will  not  do.  Then  there  is  Mile.  Jasmin,  a  pretty 
girl  of  fifteen  years,  who  can  be  had  for  $18  or  $20 
a  month  (contract  cancellable  at  the  end  of  any 
month  for  non-payment),  a  few  dresses  of  fashion- 
able cut  and  a  pleasant  house  to  live  in.  Mile. 
Jasmin  comes  to  be  inspected  with  one  old  lady, 
two  old  ladies,  three  old  ladies  (mamma  and  aunts), 
and  a  dozen  friends  and  neighbors,  big  and  little. 
Loti's  moral  stomach  revolts  at  the  thought  of 
buying  for  his  uses  a  child  who  looks  like  a  doll, 
and  is  shocked  at  the  public  parade  which  has 
been  made  of  her  as  a  commodity.  He  has  not  yet 
been  initiated  into  some  of  the  extraordinary  cus- 
toms of  Japan,  nor  yet  into  some  of  the  distinctions 
attendant  upon  those  customs.  He  learns  of  one 
of  the  latter  when  he  suggests  to  the  broker  that 
he  might  marry  a  charming  geisha  who  had  taken 
his  fancy  at  a  tea  house.  The  manner  in  which 
the  suggestion  was  received  convinced  him  that  he 
might  as  well  have  purposed  to  marry  the  devil 
himself  as  a  professional  dancer  and  singer.  Among 


178  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

the  train  of  Mile.  Jasmin's  friends  is  one  less  young 
than  Mile.  Jasmin,  say  about  eighteen,  and  already 
more  of  a  woman ;  and  when  Loti  says,  "Why  not 
her?"  M.  Kangourou  trots  her  out  for  inspection 
and,  discreetly  sending  Loti  away,  concludes  the 
arrangement  between  night-fall  and  10  o'clock, 
when  he  comes  with  the  announcement:  "All  is 
arranged,  sir;  her  parents  will  give  her  up  for 
$20  a  month  —  the  same  price  as  Mile.  Jasmin." 

So  Mile.  Chrysantheme  became  the  wife  of  Pierre 
Loti  during  his  stay  at  Nagasaki,  and  then  dutifully 
went  home  to  her  mother  without  breaking  her 
heart  at  all.  But  she  was  not  a  geisha,  only  a 
mousme  —  "one  of  the  prettiest  words  in  the  Nip- 
ponese language,"  comments  M.  Loti,  "it  seems 
almost  as  if  there  must  be  a  little  moue  in  the  very 
sound,  as  if  a  pretty,  taking  little  pout,  such  as 
they  put  on,  and  also  a  little  pert  physiognomy, 
were  described  by  it." 

Lieutenant  Pinkerton,  equally  ignorant  with  Lieu- 
tenant Loti  but  uninstructed  evidently,  marries  a 
geisha  whose  father  had  made  the  happy  dispatch 
at  the  request  of  the  Son  of  Heaven  after  making  a 
blunder  in  his  military  command.  She  is  Cio-Cio- 
San,  also  Madama  Butterfly,  and  she  comes  to  her 
wedding  with  a  bevy  of  geishas  or  mousmes  (I  do 
not  know  which)  and  a  retinue  of  relations.  All 
enjoy  the  hospitality  of  the  American  officer  while 
picking  him  to  pieces,  but  turn  from  their  kins- 
woman when  they  learn  from  an  uncle,  who  is  a 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  179 

Buddhist  priest  and  comes  late  to  the  wedding  like 
the  wicked  fairy  in  the  stories,  that  she  has  attended 
the  Mission  school  and  changed  her  religion.  Where- 
fore the  bonze  curses  her:  "Hou,  hou  !  Cio-Cio-San, 
hou,  hou ! " 

Sharpless,  United  States  Consul  at  Nagasaki,  had 
not  approved  of  Pinkerton's  adventure,  fearing  that 
it  might  bring  unhappiness  to  the  little  woman; 
but  Pinkerton  had  laughed  at  his  scruples  and 
emptied  his  glass  to  the  marriage  with  an  American 
wife  which  he  hoped  to  make  some  day.  Neither 
Loti  nor  Long  troubles  us  with  the  details  of  so 
prosaic  a  thing  as  the  marriage  ceremony;  but 
Puccini  and  his  librettists  make  much  of  it,  for  it 
provides  the  only  opportunity  for  a  chorus  and  the 
musician  had  found  delightfully  mellifluous  Japanese 
gongs  to  add  a  pretty  touch  of  local  color  to  the 
music.  Cio-Cio-San  has  been  "outcasted"  and 
Pinkerton  comforts  her  and  they  make  love  in  the 
starlight  (after  Butterfly  has  changed  her  habili- 
ments) like  any  pair  of  lovers  in  Italy.  "Dolce 
notte !  Quante  stelle  !  Vieni,  vieni !"  for  quantity. 

This  is  the  first  act  of  the  opera,  and  it  is  all 
expository  to  Belasco's  "Tragedy  of  Japan,"  which 
plays  in  one  act,  with  the  pathetic  vigil  separating 
the  two  days  which  form  its  period  of  action.  When 
that,  like  the  second  act  of  the  opera,  opens,  Pinker- 
ton  has  been  gone  from  Nagasaki  and  his  "wife" 
three  years,  and  a  baby  boy  of  whom  he  has  never 
heard,  but  who  has  his  eyes  and  hair  has  come  to 


180  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

bear  Butterfly  company  in  the  little  house  on  the 
hill.  The  money  left  by  the  male  butterfly  when 
he  flitted  is  all  but  exhausted.  Madama  Butterfly 
appears  to  be  lamentably  ignorant  of  the  customs 
of  her  country,  for  she  believes  herself  to  be  a  wife 
in  the  American  sense  and  is  fearfully  wroth  with 
Suzuki,  her  maid,  when  she  hints  that  she  never 
knew  a  foreign  husband  to  come  back  to  a  Japanese 
wife.  But  Pinkerton  when  he  sailed  away  had  said 
that  he  would  be  back  "when  the  robins  nest  again," 
and  that  suffices  Cio-Cio-San.  But  when  Sharpkss 
comes  with  a  letter  to  break  the  news  that  his  friend 
is  coming  back  with  an  American  wife,  he  loses 
courage  to  perform  his  mission  at  the  contemplation 
of  the  little  woman's  faith  in  the  truant.  Does  he 
know  when  the  robins  nest  in  America?  In  Japan 
they  had  nested  three  times  since  Pinkerton  went 
away.  The  consul  quails  at  that  and  damns  his 
friend  as  a  scoundrel.  Now  GOTO,  who  knows 
Butterfly's  pecuniary  plight,  brings  Yamadori  to 
her.  Yamadori  is  a  wealthy  Japanese  citizen  of 
New  York  in  the  book  and  play  and  a  prince  in 
the  opera,  but  in  all  he  is  smitten  with  Butterfly's 
beauty  and  wants  to  add  her  name  to  the  list  of 
wives  he  has  conveniently  married  and  as  con- 
veniently divorced  on  his  visits  to  his  native  land. 
Butterfly  insists  that  she  is  an  American  and  cannot 
be  divorced  Japanese  fashion,  and  is  amazed  when 
Sharpless  hints  that  Pinkerton  might  have  forgotten 
her  and  she  would  better  accept  Yamadori' 's  hand. 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  181 

First  she  orders  him  out  of  the  house,  but,  repent- 
ing her  of  her  rudeness,  brings  in  the  child  to  show 
him  something  that  no  one  is  likely  to  forget. 
She  asks  the  consul  to  write  to  his  friend  and  tell 
him  that  he  has  a  son,  so  fine  a  son,  indeed,  that 
she  indulges  in  a  day  dream  of  the  Mikado  stopping 
at  the  head  of  his  troops  to  admire  him  and  make 
him  a  prince  of  the  realm.  Sharpless  goes  away 
with  his  mission  unfulfilled  and  Suzuki  comes  in 
dragging  GOTO  with  her,  for  that  he  had  been  spread- 
ing scandalous  tales  about  the  treatment  which 
children  born  like  this  child  receive  in  America. 
Butterfly  is  tempted  to  kill  the  wretch,  but  at  the 
last  is  content  to  spurn  him  with  her  foot. 

At  this  moment  a  cannon  shot  is  heard.  A 
man-of-war  is  entering  the  harbor.  Quick,  the 
glasses!  "Steady  my  hand,  Suzuki,  that  I  may 
read  the  name."  It  is  the  Abraham  Lincoln, 
Pinkerton's  ship !  Now  the  cherry  tree  must  give 
up  its  every  blossom,  every  bush  or  vine  its  violets 
and  jessamines  to  garnish  the  room  for  his  welcome  ! 
The  garden  is  stripped  bare,  vases  are  filled,  the 
floor  is  strewn  with  petals.  Perfumes  exhale  from 
the  voices  of  the  women  and  the  song  of  the  or- 
chestra. Here  local  color  loses  its  right ;  the  music 
is  all  Occidental.  Butterfly  is  dressed  again  in  her 
wedding  gown  of  white  and  her  pale  cheeks  are 
touched  up  with  carmine.  The  paper  partitions 
are  drawn  against  the  night.  Butterfly  punctures 
the  shoji  with  three  holes  —  one  high  up  for  herself 


182  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

to  look  through,  standing ;  one  lower  for  the  maid 
to  look  through,  sitting ;  one  near  the  floor  for  the 
baby.  And  so  Butterfly  stands  in  an  all-night  vigil. 
The  lanterns  flicker  and  go  out.  Maid  and  babe 
sink  down  in  sleep.  The  gray  dawn  creeps  over 
the  waters  of  the  harbor.  Human  voices,  trans- 
formed into  instruments,  hum  a  barcarolle.  (We 
heard  it  when  Sharpless  tried  to  read  the  letter.) 
A  Japanese  tune  rises  like  a  sailors'  chanty  from 
the  band.  Mariners  chant  their  "Yo  ho!"  Day 
is  come.  Suzuki  awakes  and  begs  her  mistress  to 
seek  rest.  Butterfly  puts  the  baby  to  bed,  singing 
a  lullaby.  Sharpless  and  Pinkerton  come  and 
learn  of  the  vigil  from  Suzuki,  who  sees  the  form 
of  a  lady  in  the  garden  and  hears  that  it  is  the 
American  wife  of  Pinkerton.  Pinkerton  pours  out 
his  remorse  melodiously.  He  will  be  haunted  for- 
ever by  the  picture  of  his  once  happy  home  and 
Cio-Cio-San's  reproachful  eyes.  He  leaves  money 
for  Butterfly  in  the  consul's  hands  and  runs  away 
like  a  coward.  Kate,  the  American  wife,  and 
Suzuki  meet  in  the  garden.  The  maid  is  asked 
to  tell  her  mistress  the  meaning  of  the  visit,  but 
before  she  can  do  so  Butterfly  sees  them.  Her  ques- 
tions bring  out  half  the  truth;  her  intuition  tells 
her  the  rest.  Kate  (an  awful  blot  she  is  on  the 
dramatic  picture)  begs  forgiveness  and  asks  for  the 
baby  boy  that  her  husband  may  rear  him.  Butterfly 
says  he  shall  have  him  in  half  an  hour  if  he  will 
come  to  fetch  him.  She  goes  to  the  shrine  of. 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  183 

Buddha  and  takes  from  it  a  veil  and  a  dagger, 
reading  the  words  engraved  on  its  blade:  "To 
die  with  honor  when  one  can  no  longer  live  with 
honor."  It  is  the  weapon  which  the  Mikado  had 
sent  to  her  father.  She  points  the  weapon  at  her 
throat,  but  at  the  moment  Suzuki  pushes  the  baby 
into  the  room.  Butterfly  addresses  it  passionately ; 
then,  telling  it  to  play,  seats  it  upon  a  stool,  puts 
an  American  flag  into  its  hands,  a  bandage  around 
its  eyes.  Again  she  takes  dagger  and  veil  and 
goes  behind  a  screen.  The  dagger  is  heard  to  fall. 
Butterfly  totters  out  from  behind  the  screen  with  a 
veil  wound  round  her  neck.  She  staggers  to  the 
child  and  falls,  dying,  at  its  feet.  Pinkerton  rushes 
in  with  a  cry  of  horror  and  falls  on  his  knees,  while 
Sharpless  gently  takes  up  the  child. 


* 

*     * 


I  have  no  desire  to  comment  disparagingly  upon 
the  denouement  of  the  book  of  Mr.  Long  or  the  play 
of  Mr.  Belasco  which  Puccini  and  his  librettists 
followed;  but  in  view  of  the  origin  of  the  play  a 
bit  of  comparative  criticism  seems  to  be  imperative. 
Loti's  "Madame  Chrysantheme "  was  turned  into 
an  opera  by  Andre*  Meseager.  What  the  opera 
was  like  I  do  not  know.  It  came,  it  went,  and 
left  no  sign ;  yet  it  would  seem  to  be  easy  to  guess 
at  the  reason  for  its  quick  evanishment.  If  it 
followed  the  French  story,  as  no  doubt  it  did,  it 


184  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

was  too  faithful  to  the  actualities  of  Japanese  life 
to  awaken  a  throb  of  emotion  in  the  Occidental 
heart.  Without  such  a  throb  a  drama  is  naught 
—  a  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbal.  The 
charm  of  Loti's  book  lies  in  its  marvellously  beau- 
tiful portrayal  of  a  country,  a  people,  and  a  char- 
acteristic incident  in  the  social  life  of  that  people. 
Its  interest  as  a  story,  outside  of  the  charm  of  its 
telling,  is  like  that  excited  by  inspection  of  an 
exotic  curio.  In  his  dedication  of  the  book  the 
author  begged  Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Richelieu  not 
to  look  for  any  meaning  in  it,  but  to  receive  it  in 
the  same  spirit  in  which  she  would  receive  "some 
quaint  bit  of  pottery,  some  grotesque  carved  ivory 
idol,  or  some  preposterous  trifle  brought  back  from 
the  fatherland  of  all  preposterousness."  It  is  a 
record  of  a  bit  of  the  wandering  life  of  a  poet  who 
makes  himself  a  part  of  every  scene  into  which 
fortune  throws  him.  He  has  spent  a  summer  with 
a  Japanese  mousme,  whom  he  had  married  Japanese 
fashion,  and  when  he  has  divorced  her,  also  in 
Japanese  fashion,  with  regard  for  all  the  conven- 
tions, and  sailed  away  from  her  forever,  he  is  more 
troubled  by  thoughts  of  possible  contamination  to 
his  own  nature  than  because  of  any  consequences 
to  the  woman.  Before  the  final  farewell  he  had 
felt  a  touch  of  pity  for  the  "poor  little  gypsy," 
but  when  he  mounted  the  stairs  to  her  room  for 
the  last  time  he  heard  her  singing,  and  mingled 
with  her  voice  was  a  strange  metallic  sound,  dzmn, 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY'1  185 

dzinnl  as  of  coins  ringing  on  the  floor.  Is  she 
amusing  herself  with  quoits,  or  the  jeu  du  crapaud, 
or  pitch  and  toss?  He  creeps  in,  and  there,  dressed 
for  the  departure  to  her  mother's,  sitting  on  the 
floor  is  Chrysantheme ;  and  spread  out  around 
her  all  the  fine  silver  dollars  he  had  given  her  ac- 
cording to  agreement  the  night  before.  "With 
the  competent  dexterity  of  an  old  money  changer 
she  fingers  them,  turns  them  over,  throws  them 
on  the  floor,  and  armed  with  a  little  mallet  ad  hoc, 
rings  them  vigorously  against  her  ear,  singing  the 
while  I  know  not  what  little  pensive,  birdlike  song, 
which  I  dare  say  she  improvises  as  she  goes  along. 
Well,  after  all,  it  is  even  more  completely  Japanese 
than  I  could  possibly  have  imagined  it  —  this  last 
scene  of  my  married  life  !  I  feel  inclined  to  laugh." 
And  he  commends  the  little  gypsy's  worldly  wisdom, 
offers  to  make  good  any  counterfeit  piece  which  she 
may  find,  and  refuses  to  permit  her  to  see  him  go 
aboard  of  his  ship.  She  does,  nevertheless,  along 
with  the  Japanese  wives  of  four  of  his  fellow  officers, 
who  peep  at  their  flitting  husbands  through  the  cur- 
tains of  their  sampans.  But  when  he  is  far  out  on 
the  great  Yellow  Sea  he  throws  the  faded  lotus 
flowers  which  she  had  given  him  through  the  port- 
hole of  his  cabin,  making  his  best  excuses  for  "giving 
to  them,  natives  of  Japan,  a  grave  so  solemn  and 
so  vast" ;  and  he  utters  a  prayer :  "0  Ama-T4race- 
Omi-Kami,  wash  me  clean  from  this  little  marriage 
of  mine  in  the  waters  of  the  river  of  Kamo  !" 


186  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

The  story  has  no  soul,  and  to  give  his  story, 
which  borrowed  its  motive  from  Loti's,  a  soul, 
Mr.  Long  had  to  do  violence  to  the  verities  of 
Japanese  life.  Yet  might  not  even  a  geisha  feel 
a  genuine  passion? 


The  use  of  folk-tunes  in  opera  is  older  than  "Ma- 
dama  Butterfly,"  but  Puccini's  score  stands  alone 
in  the  extent  of  the  use  and  the  consistency  with 
which  Japanese  melody  has  been  made  the  founda- 
tion of  the  music.  When  Signor  Illica,  one  of  the 
librettists,  followed  Sar  Peladan  and  d'Annunzio 
into  Nippon  seeking  flowers  for  "Iris,"  he  took 
Mascagni  with  him  —  metaphorically,  of  course. 
But  Mascagni  was  a  timid  gleaner.  Puccini  plucked 
with  a  bolder  hand,  as  indeed  he  might,  for  he  is 
an  incomparably  greater  adept  in  the  art  of  making 
musical  nosegays.  In  fact,  I  know  of  only  one 
score  that  is  comparable  with  that  of  "Madama 
Butterfly"  in  respect  of  its  use  of  national  musical 
color,  and  that  is  "  Boris  Godounoff  ."  Moussorgsky, 
however,  had  more,  richer,  and  a  greater  variety  of 
material  to  work  with  than  Puccini.  Japanese 
music  is  arid  and  angular,  and  yet  so  great  is  Puc- 
cini's skill  in  combining  creative  imagination  and 
reflection  that  he  knew  how  to  make  it  blossom 
like  a  rose.  Pity  that  he  could  not  wholly  overcome 
its  rhythmical  monotony.  Japanese  melody  runs 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY"  187 

almost  uninterruptedly  through  his  instrumental 
score,  giving  way  at  intervals  to  the  Italian  style 
of  lyricism  when  the  characters  and  passions  be- 
come universal  rather  than  local  types.  Struc- 
turally, his  score  rests  on  the  Wagnerian  method, 
in  that  the  vocal  part  floats  on  an  uninterrupted 
instrumental  current.  In  the  orchestral  part  the 
tunes  which  he  borrowed  from  the  popular  music 
of  Japan  are  continuously  recurrent,  and  fragments 
of  them  are  used  as  the  connecting  links  of  the 
whole  fabric.  He  uses  also  a  few  typical  themes 
(Leitmotive)  of  his  own  invention,  and  to  them  it 
might  be  possible,  by  ingenious  study  of  their  re- 
lation to  text  and  situation,  to  attach  significances 
in  the  manner  of  the  Wagnerian  handbooks;  but 
I  do  not  think  that  such  processes  occupied  the 
composer's  mind  to  any  considerable  extent,  and 
the  themes  are  not  appreciably  characteristic.  His 
most  persistent  use  of  a  connecting  link,  arbitrarily 
chosen,  is  found  in  the  case  of  the  first  motive  of 
the  theme,  which  he  treats  fugally  in  the  introduc- 
tion, and  which  appears  thereafter  to  the  end  of 
the  chapter  (a,  in  the  list  of  themes  printed  here- 
with). What  might  be  called  personal  themes  are 
the  opening  notes  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner" 
for  Pinkerton  and  the  melody  (d)  which  comes  in 
with  Yamadori,  in  which  the  Japanese  tune  used 
by  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  in  "The  Mikado"  is  echoed. 
The  former  fares  badly  throughout  the  score  (for 
which  no  blame  need  attach  to  Signor  Puccini), 


188 


A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 


but  the  latter  is  used  with  capital  effect,  though 
not  always  in  connection  with  the  character. 

If  Signor  Puccini  had  needed  the  suggestion  that 
Japanese  music  was  necessary  for  a  Japanese  play 
(which  of  course  he  did  not),  he  might  have  received 
it  when  he  saw  Mr.  Belasco's  play  in  London.  For 
the  incidental  music  in  that  play  Mr.  William 
Furst  provided  Japanese  tunes,  or  tunes  made 
over  the  very  convenient  Japanese  last.  Through 
Mr.  Belasco's  courtesy  I  am  able  to  present  here  a 
relic  of  this  original  "Butterfly"  music.  The  first 
melody  (a)  was  the  theme  of  the  curtain-music; 
(6)  that  accompanying  Cho-Cho-San,  when  dis- 
covered at  the  beginning  spraying  flowers,  present- 
ing an  offering  at  the  shrine  and  burning  incense 
in  the  house  at  the  foot  of  Higashi  hill;  (c)  the 
Yamadori  music ;  (d)  the  music  accompanying  the 
first  production  of  the  sword ;  (e)  the  music  of  the 
vigil.  There  were  also  two  Occidental  pieces  — 
the  melody  of  a  little  song  which  Pinkerton  had 
taught  Cho-Cho-San,  "I  Call  Her  the  Belle  of 
Japan,"  and  "Rock-a-bye,  Baby." 


"MADAMA  BUTTERFLY" 


189 


f  r  t  ir'f*f 


Themea  from  Puccini's  "Butterfly"  music 
By  permission  o/  KtconH  <fc  Co. 


Melodies  from  Mr.  Furst's  "  Butterfly  "  music 
By  permisiiou  of  Mr.  David  Belasco 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"DER  ROSENKAVALIER" 

IN  the  beginning  there  was  "Guntram,"  of  which 
we  in  America  heard  only  fragmentary  echoes  in 
our  concert-rooms.  Then  came  "Feuersnot,"  which 
reached  us  in  the  same  way,  but  between  which  and 
the  subject  which  is  to  occupy  me  in  this  chapter 
there  is  a  kinship  through  a  single  instrumental  num- 
ber, the  meaning  of  which  no  commentator  has  dared 
more  than  hint  at.  It  is  the  music  which  accom- 
panies the  episode,  politely  termed  a  "love  scene," 
which  occurs  at  the  climax  of  the  earlier  opera,  but 
is  supposed  to  take  place  before  the  opening  of  the 
curtain  in  the  later.  Perhaps  I  shall  recur  to  them 
again  —  if  I  have  the  courage. 

These  were  the  operas  of  Richard  Strauss  which 
no  manager  deemed  it  necessary  or  advisable  to  pro- 
duce in  New  York.  Now  came  "  Salome."  Popular 
neurasthenia  was  growing.  Oscar  Wilde  thought 
France  might  accept  a  glorification  of  necrophilism 
and  wrote  his  delectable  book  in  French.  France 
would  have  none  of  it,  but  when  it  was  done  into 
German,  and  Richard  Strauss  accentuated  its  sexual 
perversity  by  his  hysterical  music,  lo !  Berlin  ac- 

190 


"DER  ROSENKAVALIER"  191 

cepted  it  with  avidity.  The  theatres  of  the  Prussian 
capital  were  keeping  pace  with  the  pathological 
spirit  of  the  day,  and  were  far  ahead  of  those  of 
Paris,  where,  it  had  long  been  the  habit  to  think, 
moral  obliquity  made  its  residence.  If  Berlin,  then 
why  not  New  York?  So  thought  Mr.  Conried, 
saturated  with  German  theatricalism,  and  seeing  no 
likely  difference  in  the  appeal  of  a  "Parsifal,"  which 
he  had  successfully  produced,  and  a  "Salome,"  he 
prepared  to  put  the  works  of  Wagner  and  Strauss  on 
the  same  footing  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House. 
An  influence  which  has  not  yet  been  clearly  defined, 
but  which  did  not  spring  from  the  director  of  the 
opera  nor  the  gentlemen  who  were  his  financial 
backers,  silenced  the  maunderings  of  the  lust-crazed 
Herod  and  paralyzed  the  contortions  of  the  lascivious 
dancer  to  whom  he  was  willing  to  give  one-half  his 
kingdom.1 

Now  Mr.  Hammerstein  came  to  continue  the 
artistic  education  which  the  owners  of  the  Metro- 
politan Opera  House  had  so  strangely  and  unaccount- 
ably checked.  Salome  lived  out  her  mad  life  hi  a 
short  time,  dying,  not  by  the  command  of  Herod, 
but  crushed  under  the  shield  of  popular  opinion. 
The  operation,  though  effective,  was  not  as  swift  as 
it  might  have  been  had  operatic  conditions  been  dif- 
ferent than  they  are  in  New  York,  and  before  it  was 
accomplished  a  newer  phase  of  Strauss's  pathological 

1  For  the  story  of  "Salome"  in  New  York,  see  my  "Chap- 
ters of  Opera"  (Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  New  York),  p.  343  et  «eg.. 


192  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

art  had  offered  itself  as  a  nervous  excitation.  It  was 
"Elektra,"  and  under  the  guise  of  an  ancient  religious 
ideal,  awful  but  pathetic,  the  people  were  asked  to 
find  artistic  delight  in  the  contemplation  of  a  woman's 
maniacal  thirst  for  a  mother's  blood.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  recall  the  history  of  the  opera  at  the  Man- 
hattan Opera  House  to  show  that  the  artistic  sanity 
of  New  York  was  proof  against  the  new  poison. 

Hugo  von  Hoffmannsthal  had  aided  Strauss  in  this 
brew  and  collaborated  with  him  in  the  next,  which, 
it  was  hoped,  probably  because  of  the  difference  in 
its  concoction  and  ingredients,  would  make  his  rein 
even  more  taut  than  it  had  ever  been  on  theatrical 
managers  and  their  public.  From  the  Greek  classics 
he  turned  to  the  comedy  of  the  Beaumarchais  period. 
Putting  their  heads  together,  the  two  wrote  "Der 
Rosenkavalier."  It  was  perhaps  shrewd  on  their 
part  that  they  avoided  all  allusion  to  the  opera  ~buffa 
of  the  period  and  called  their  work  a  "comedy  for 
music."  It  enabled  them,  in  the  presence  of  the 
ignorant,  to  assume  a  virtue  which  they  did  not 
possess ;  but  it  is  questionable  if  that  circumstance 
will  help  them  any.  It  is  only  the  curious  critic 
nowadays  who  takes  the  trouble  to  look  at  the  defi- 
nition, or  epithet,  on  a  title  page.  It  is  the  work 
which  puts  the  hallmark  on  itself ;  not  the  whim  of 
the  composer.  It  would  have  been  wise,  very  wise 
indeed,  had  Hoffmannsthal  avoided  everything  which 
might  call  up  a  comparison  between  himself  and 
Beaumarchais.  It  was  simply  fatal  to  Strauss  that 


"DER  ROSENKAVALIER"  193 

he  tried  to  avoid  all  comparison  between'  his  treat- 
ment of  an  eighteenth  century  comedy  and  Mozart's. 
One  of  his  devices  was  to  make  use  of  the  system  of 
musical  symbols  which  are  irrevocably  associated 
with  Wagner's  method  of  composition.  Mozart 
knew  nothing  of  this  system,  but  he  had  a  better 
one  in  his  Beaumarchaisian  comedy,  which  "Der 
Rosenkavalier"  recalls;  it  was  that  of  thematic  ex- 
pression for  each  new  turn  in  the  dramatic  situation 
—  a  system  which  is  carried  out  so  brilliantly  in  "Le 
Nozze  di  Figaro"  that  there  is  nothing,  even  in  "Die 
Meistersinger,"  which  can  hold  a  candle  to  it.  An- 
other was  to  build  up  the  vocal  part  of  his  comedy  on 
orchestral  waltzes.  Evidently  it  was  his  notion 
that  at  the  time  of  Maria  Theresa  (in  whose  early 
reign  the  opera  is  supposed  to  take  place)  the 
Viennese  world  was  given  over  to  the  dance.  It 
was  so  given  over  a  generation  later,  so  completely, 
indeed,  that  at  the  meetings  in  the  ridotto,  for  which 
Mozart,  Haydn,  Gyrowetz,  Beethoven,  and  others 
wrote  music,  retiring  rooms  had  to  be  provided  for 
ladies  who  were  as  unprepared  for  possible  accidents 
as  was  one  of  those  described  by  Pepys  as  figuring 
in  a  court  ball  in  his  time ;  but  to  put  scarcely  any- 
thing but  waltz  tunes  under  the  olialogue  of  "Der 
Rosenkavalier"  is  an  anachronism  which  is  just  as 
disturbing  to  the  judicious  as  the  fact  that  Hen- 
Strauss,  though  he  starts  his  half-dozen  or  more  of 
waltzes  most  insinuatingly,  never  lets  them  run  the 
natural  course  which  Lanner  and  the  Viennese 


194  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Strauss,  who  suggested  their  tunes,  would  have  made 
them  do.  Always,  the  path  which  sets  out  so  prettily 
becomes  a  byway  beset  with  dissonant  thorns  and 
thistles  and  clogged  with  rocks. 

All  of  this  is  by  way  of  saying  that  "  Der  Rosen- 
kavalier"  reached  New  York  on  December  9,  1913, 
after  having  endured  two  years  or  so  in  Europe, 
under  the  management  of  Mr.  Gatti-Casazza,  and 
was  treated  with  the  distinction  which  Mr.  Conried 
gave  "Parsifal"  and  had  planned  for  "Salome."  It 
was  set  apart  for  a  performance  outside  the  subscrip- 
tion, special  prices  were  demanded,  and  the  novelty 
dressed  as  sumptuously  and  prepared  with  as  lavish 
an  expenditure  of  money  and  care  as  if  it  were  a 
work  of  the  very  highest  importance.  Is  it  that? 
The  question  is  not  answered  by  the  fact  that  its 
music  was  composed  by  Richard  Strauss,  even 
though  one  be  willing  to  admit  that  Strauss  is  the 
greatest  living  master  of  technique  in  musical  com- 
position, the  one  concerning  whose  doings  the  greatest 
curiosity  is  felt  and  certainly  the  one  whose  doings 
are  the  best  advertised.  "Der  Rosenkavalier,"  in 
spite  of  all  these  things,  must  stand  on  its  merits  — 
as  a  comedy  with  music.  The  author  of  its  book 
has  invited  a  comparison  which  has  already  been 
suggested  by  making  it  a  comedy  of  intrigue  merely 
and  placing  its  time  of  action  in  Vienna  and  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century.  He  has  gone 
further ;  he  has  invoked  the  spirit  of  Beaumarchais 
to  animate  his  people  and  his  incidents.  The  one 


"DER  ROSENKAVALIER"  196 

thing  which  he  could  not  do,  or  did  not  do,  was  to 
supply  the  satirical  scourge  which  justified  the  Figaro 
comedies  of  his  great  French  prototype  and  which, 
while  it  made  their  acceptance  tardy,  because  of 
royal  and  courtly  opposition,  made  their  popular 
triumph  the  more  emphatic.  "Le  Nozze  di  Figaro" 
gave  us  more  than  one  figure  and  more  than  one 
scene  in  the  representation,  and  "Le  Nozze  di 
Figaro"  is  to  those  who  understand  its  text  one  of 
the  most  questionable  operas  on  the  current  list. 
But  there  is  a  moral  purpose  underlying  the  comedy 
which  to  some  extent  justifies  its  frank  salaciousness. 
It  is  to  prevent  the  Count  from  exercising  an  ancient 
seigniorial  right  over  the  heroine  which  he  had  volun- 
tarily resigned,  that  all  the  characters  in  the  play 
unite  in  the  intrigue  which  makes  up  the  comedy. 
Moreover,  there  are  glimpses  over  and  over  again 
of  honest  and  virtuous  love  between  the  characters 
and  beautiful  expressions  of  it  in  the  music  which 
makes  the  play  delightful,  despite  its  salaciousness. 
Even  Cherubino,  who  seems  to  have  come  to  life 
again  in  Octaman,  is  a  lovable  youth  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  he  represents  youth  in  its  amorous- 
ness toward  all  womankind,  with  thought  of  special 
mischief  toward  none. 

"Der  Rosenkavalier"  is  a  comedy  of  lubricity 
merely,  with  what  little  satirical  scourge  it  has  ap- 
plied only  to  an  old  roue*  who  is  no  more  deserving 
of  it  than  most  of  the  other  people  in  the  play.  So 
much  of  its  story  as  will  bear  telling  can  be  told  very 


196  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

briefly.  It  begins,  assuming  its  instrumental  intro- 
duction (played  with  the  scene  discreetly  hidden) 
to  be  a  part  of  it,  with  a  young  nobleman  locked  in 
the  embraces  of  the  middle-aged  wife  of  a  field 
marshal,  who  is  conveniently  absent  on  a  hunting 
expedition.  The  music  is  of  a  passionate  order,  and 
the  composer,  seeking  a  little  the  odor  of  virtue,  but 
with  an  oracular  wink  in  his  eye,  says  in  a  descrip- 
tive note  that  it  is  to  be  played  in  the  spirit  of  parody 
(parodistiscti) .  Unfortunately  the  audience  cannot 
see  the  printed  direction,  and  there  is  no  parody  in 
music  except  extravagance  and  ineptitude  in  the 
utterance  of  simple  things  (like  the  faulty  notes  of 
the  horns  in  Mozart's  joke  on  the  village  musicians, 
the  cadenza  for  violin  solo  in  the  same  musical  joke, 
or  the  twangling  of  Beckmesser's  lute) ;  so  the  intro- 
duction is  an  honest  musical  description  of  things 
which  the  composer  is  not  willing  to  confess,  and 
least  of  all  the  stage  manager,  for  when  the  curtain 
opens  there  is  not  presented  even  the  picture  called 
for  by  the  German  libretto.  Nevertheless,  morn  is 
dawning,  birds  are  twittering,  and  the  young  lover, 
kneeling  before  his  mistress  on  a  divan,  is  bemoaning 
the  fact  that  day  is  come  and  that  he  cannot  pub- 
lish his  happiness  to  the  world.  The  te'te-a-te'te  is 
interrupted  by  a  rude  boor  of  a  nobleman,  who  comes 
to  consult  his  cousin  (the  princess)  about  a  messen- 
ger to  send  with  the  conventional  offering  of  a  silver 
rose  to  the  daughter  of  a  vulgar  plebeian  just  ele- 
vated to  the  nobility  because  of  his  wealth.  The 


"DER  ROSENKAVALIER"  197 

conversation  between  the  two  touches  on  little  more 
than  old  amours,  and  after  the  lady  has  held  her 
levee  designed  to  introduce  a  variety  of  comedy 
effects  in  music  as  well  as  action,  the  princess  recom- 
mends her  lover  for  the  office  of  rosebearer.  Mean' 
while  the  lover  has  donned  the  garments  of  a  waiting 
maid  and  been  overwhelmed  with  the  wicked  atten- 
tions of  the  roue,  Lerchenau.  When  the  lovers  are 
again  alone  there  is  a  confession  of  renunciation  on 
the  part  of  the  princess,  based  on  the  philosophical 
reflection  that,  after  all,  her  Octavian  being  so  young 
would  bring  about  the  inevitable  partingsooner  or  later. 

In  the  second  act  what  the  princess  in  her  prescient 
abnegation  had  foreseen  takes  place.  Her  lover 
carries  the  rose  to  the  young  woman  whom  the  roue* 
had  picked  out  for  his  bride  and  promptly  falls  in 
love  with  her.  She  with  equal  promptness,  follow- 
ing the  example  of  Wagner's  heroines,  bowls  herself 
at  his  head.  The  noble  vulgarian  complicates 
matters  by  insisting  that  he  receive  a  dowry  instead 
of  paying  one.  The  young  hot-blood  adds  to  the 
difficulties  by  pinking  him  in  the  arm  with  his  sword, 
but  restores  order  at  the  last  by  sending  him  a  letter 
of  assignation  in  his  first  act  guise  of  a  maid  servant 
of  the  princess. 

This  assignation  is  the  background  of  the  third 
act,  which  is  farce  of  the  wildest  and  most  vulgar 
order.  Much  of  it  is  too  silly  for  description. 
Always,  however,  there  is  allusion  to  the  purpose 
of  the  meeting  on  the  part  of  Lerchenau,  whose  plans 


198  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

are  spoiled  by  apparitions  in  all  parts  of  the  room, 
the  entrance  of  the  police,  his  presumptive  bride 
and  her  father,  a  woman  who  claims  him  as  her  hus- 
band, four  children  who  raise  bedlam  (and  memories 
of  the  contentious  Jews  in  "Salome"),  by  shouting 
"Papa !  papa  !"  until  his  mind  is  in  a  whirl  and 
he  rushes  out  in  despair.  The  princess  leaves  the 
new-found  lovers  alone. 

They  hymn  their  happiness  in  Mozartian  strains 
(the  melody  copied  from  the  second  part  of  the 
music  with  which  Papageno  sets  the  blackamoors  to 
dancing  in  "Die  Zauberflote"),  the  orchestra  talks 
of  the  matronly  renunciation  of  the  princess,  enthu- 
siastic Straussians  of  a  musical  parallel  with  the 
quintet  from  Wagner's  "Meistersinger,"  and  the 
opera  comes  to  an  end  after  three  and  one-half  hours 
of  more  or  less  uninteUigible  dialogue  poised  on  waltz 
melodies. 

I  have  said  unintelligible  dialogue.  For  this  un- 
intelligibility  there  are  two  reasons  —  the  chief  one 
musical,  the  other  literary.  Though  Strauss  treats 
his  voices  with  more  consideration  in  "Der  Rosen- 
kavalier"  than  in  his  tragedies,  he  still  so  over- 
burdens them  that  the  words  are  distinguishable 
only  at  intervals.  Only  too  frequently  he  crushes 
them,  with  orchestral  voices,  which  in  themselves  are 
not  overwhelming  —  the  voices  of  his  horns,  for  in- 
stance, for  which  he  shows  a  particular  partiality. 
His  style  of  declamation  is  melodic,  though  it  is  only 
at  the  end  of  the  opera  that  he  rises  to  real  vocal 


"DER  ROSENKAVALIER"  i»» 

melody ;  but  it  seems  to  be  put  over  an  orchestral 
part,  and  not  the  orchestral  part  put  under  it. 
There  is  no  moment  in  which  he  can  say,  as  Wag- 
ner truthfully  and  admiringly  said  of  the  wonderful 
orchestral  music  of  the  third  act  of  "Tristan  und 
Isolde,"  that  all  this  swelling  instrumental  song 
existed  only  for  the  sake  of  what  the  dying  Tristan 
was  saying  upon  his  couch.  All  of  Strauss's  waltzes 
seem  to  exist  for  their  own  sake,  which  makes  the 
disappointment  greater  that  they  are  not  carried 
through  in  the  spirit  in  which  they  are  begun ;  that 
is,  the  spirit  of  the  naive  Viennese  dance  tune. 

A  second  reason  for  the  too  frequent  unintelli- 
gibility  of  the  text  is  its  archaic  character.  Its 
idioms  are  eighteenth  century  as  well  as  Viennese, 
and  its  persistent  use  of  the  third  person  even  among 
individuals  of  quality,  though  it  gives  a  tang  to  the 
libretto  when  read  in  the  study,  is  not  welcome  when 
heard  with  difficulty.  Besides  this,  there  is  use  of 
dialect  —  vulgar  when  assumed  by  Octavian,  mixed 
when  called  for  by  such  characters  as  Valzacchi  and 
his  partner  in  scandal  mongery,  Annina.  To  be  com- 
pelled to  forego  a  knowledge  of  half  of  what  such  a 
master  of  diction  as  Mr.  Reiss  was  saying  was  a  new 
sensation  to  his  admirers  who  understand  German. 
Yet  the  fault  was  as  little  his  as  it  was  Mr.  Goritz's 
that  so  much  of  what  he  said  went  for  nothing ;  it 
was  all  his  misfortune,  including  the  fact  that  much 
of  the  music  is  not  adapted  to  his  voice. 

The  music  offers  a  pleasanter  topic  than  the 


200  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

action  and  dialogue.  It  is  a  relief  to  those  listeners 
who  go  to  the  opera  oppressed  with  memories  of 
"Salome"  and  "Elektra."  It  is  not  only  that  their 
ears  are  not  so  often  assaulted  by  rude  sounds,  they 
are  frequently  moved  by  phrases  of  great  and  genuine 
beauty.  Unfortunately  the  Straussian  system  of 
composition  demands  that  beauty  be  looked  for  in 
fragments.  Continuity  of  melodic  flow  is  impossible 
to  Strauss  —  a  confession  of  his  inability  either  to 
continue  Wagner's  method,  to  improve  on  it,  or  in- 
vent anything  new  in  its  place.  The  best  that  has 
been  done  in  the  Wagnerian  line  belongs  to 
Humperdinck.1 

1  "Der  Rosenkavalier"  had  its  first  American  production  at 
the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  New  York,  on  December  9, 
1913,  the  cast  being  as  follows:  — 

Feldmarschallin  Fiirstin  Werdenberg Frieda  Hempel 

Baron  Ochs  auf  Lerchenau Otto  Goritz 

Octavian,  genannt  Quinquin Margarete  Obe* 

Herr  von  Faninal Hermann  Weil 

Sophie,  seine  Tochter Anna  Case 

Jungf er  Marianne  Leitmetzerin Rita  Fornia 

Valzacchi,  ein  Intrigant Albert  Reiss 

Annina,  seine  Begleiterin Marie  Mattfeld 

Ein  Polizeikommissar Carl  Schlegel 

Haushof meister  der  Feldmarschallin Pietro  Audisio 

Haushofmeister  bei  Faninal Lambert  Murphy 

Kin  Notar Basil  Ruysdael 

Ein  Wirt Julius  Bayer 

Ein  Sanger Carl  Jorn 

f  Louise  Cox 

Drei  adelige  Waisen <  Rosina  Van  Dyck 

[  Sophie  Braslau 

Eine  Modistin Jeanne  Maubourg 

Ein  Lakai Ludwig  Burgstaller 

Ein  kleiner  Neger Ruth  Weinsteia 

Conductor  —  Alfred  Hertz 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"KONIGSKINDER" 

ONCE  upon  a  time  a  witch  cast  a  spell  upon  a 
king's  daughter  and  held  her  in  servitude  as  a  goose- 
herd.  A  prince  found  her  in  the  forest  and  loved 
her.  She  loved  him  in  return,  and  would  gladly 
have  gone  away  from  her  sordid  surroundings  with 
him,  though  she  had  spurned  the  crown  which  he 
had  offered  her  in  exchange  for  her  wreath  of  flowers ; 
but  when  she  escaped  from  her  jailer  she  found  that 
she  could  not  break  the  charm  which  held  her  im- 
prisoned in  the  forest.  Then  the  prince  left  the 
crown  lying  at  her  feet  and  continued  his  wanderings. 
Scarcely  had  he  gone  when  there  came  to  the  hut  of 
the  witch  a  broommaker  and  a  woodchopper,  guided 
by  a  wandering  minstrel.  They  were  ambassadors 
from  the  city  of  Hellabrunn,  which  had  been  so  long 
without  a  king  that  its  boorish  burghers  themselves 
felt  the  need  of  a  ruler  in  spite  of  their  boorishness. 
To  the  wise  woman  the  ambassadors  put  the  ques- 
tions :  Who  shall  be  this  ruler  and  by  what  sign  shall 
they  recognize  him  ?  The  witch  tells  them  that  their 
sovereign  shall  be  the  first  person  who  enters  their 
gates  after  the  bells  have  rung  the  noon  hour  on  the 

201 


202 

morrow,  which  is  the  day  of  the  Hella  festival. 
Then  the  minstrel  catches  sight  of  the  lovely  goose- 
girl,  and  through  the  prophetic  gift  possessed  by 
poets  he  recognizes  in  her  a  rightly  born  princess  for 
his  people.  By  the  power  of  his  art  he  is  enabled  to 
put  aside  the  threatening  spells  of  the  witch  and 
compel  the  hag  to  deliver  the  maiden  into  his  care. 
He  persuades  her  to  break  the  enchantment  which  had 
held  her  bound  hitherto  and  defy  the  wicked  power. 

Meanwhile,  however,  grievous  misfortunes  have 
befallen  the  prince,  her  lover.  He  has  gone  to  Hella- 
brunn,  and  desiring  to  learn  to  serve  in  order  that 
he  might  better  know  how  to  rule,  he  had  taken  ser- 
vice as  a  swineherd.  The  daughter  of  the  innkeeper 
becomes  enamoured  of  the  shapely  body  of  the  prince, 
whose  proud  spirit  she  cannot  understand,  and  who 
has  repulsed  her  advances.  His  thoughts  go  back 
to  the  goosegirl  whose  wreath,  with  its  fresh  fra- 
grance, reminds  him  of  his  duty.  He  attempts  to 
teach  the  burghers  their  own  worth,  but  the  wench 
whose  love  he  had  repulsed  accuses  him  of  theft, 
and  he  is  about  to  be  led  off  to  prison  when  the  bells 
peal  forth  the  festal  hour. 

Joyfully  the  watchmen  throw  open  the  strong 
town  gates  and  the  multitude  and  gathered  coun- 
cillors fall  back  to  receive  their  king.  But  through 
the  doors  enters  the  gooseherd,  proudly  wearing  her 
crown  and  followed  by  her  flock  and  the  minstrel. 
The  lovers  fall  into  each  other's  arms,  but  only  the 
poet  and  a  little  child  recognize  them  as  of  royal 


"KONIGSKINDER"  205 

blood.  The  boorish  citizens,  who  had  fancied  that 
their  king  would  appear  in  regal  splendor,  drive  the 
youth  and  maiden  out  with  contumely,  burn  the 
witch  and  cripple  the  minstrel  by  breaking  one  of 
his  legs  on  the  wheel.  Seeking  his  home,  the  prince 
and  his  love  lose  their  way  in  the  forest  during  a 
snowstorm  and  die  of  a  poisoned  loaf  made  by  the 
witch,  for  which  the  prince  had  bartered  his  broken 
crown,  under  the  same  tree  which  had  sheltered 
them  on  their  first  meeting;  but  the  children  of 
Hellabrann,  who  had  come  out  in  search  of  them, 
guided  by  a  bird,  find  their  bodies  buried  under  the 
snow  and  give  them  royal  acclaim  and  burial. 
And  the  prescient  minstrel  hymns  their  virtues. 

This  is  the  story  of  Engelbert  Humperdinck's  opera 
"Konigskinder, "  which  had  its  first  performance  on 
any  stage  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  New 
York,  on  December  28, 1910,  with  the  following  cast : 

Der  Konigssohn Herman  Jadlowker 

Die  Gansemagd Geraldine  Farrar 

Der  Spielmann Otto  Goritz 

Die  Hexe Louise  Homer 

Der  Holzhacker Adamo  Didur 

Der  Besenbinder Albert  Reiss 

Zwei  Kinder Edna  Walter  and  Lotte  Engel 

Der  Ratsalteste Marcel  Reiner 

Der  Wirt Antonio  Pini-Corsi 

Die  Wirtstochter Florence  Wickham 

Der  Schneider Julius  Bayer 

Die  Stallmagd Marie  Mattfeld 

Zwei  Torwachter Ernst  Maran  and  William  Hinshaw 

Conductor :  Alfred  Hertz 


204  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

To  some  in  the  audience  the  drama  was  new  only 
in  the  new  operatic  dress  with  which  Humperdinck 
had  clothed  it  largely  at  the  instance  of  the  Metro- 
politan management.  It  had  been  known  as  a 
spoken  play  for  twelve  years  and  three  of  its  musical 
numbers  —  the  overture  and  two  pieces  of  between- 
acts  music  —  had  been  in  local  concert-lists  for  the 
same  length  of  time.  The  play  had  been  presented 
with  incidental  music  for  many  of  the  scenes  as  well 
as  the  overture  and  entr'actes  in  1898  in  an  extremely 
interesting  production  at  the  Irving  Place  Theatre, 
then  under  the  direction  of  Heinrich  Conried,  in 
which  Agnes  Sorma  and  Rudolf  Christians  had 
carried  the  principal  parts.  It  came  back  four  years 
later  in  an  English  version  at  the  Herald  Square 
Theatre,  but  neither  in  the  German  nor  the  English 
performance  was  it  vouchsafed  us  to  realize  what 
had  been  the  purpose  of  the  author  of  the  play  and 
the  composer  of  the  music. 

The  author,  who  calls  herself  Ernst  Rosmer,  is  a 
woman,  daughter  of  Heinrich  Forges,  for  many 
years  a  factotum  at  the  Bayreuth  festivals.  It  was 
her  father's  devotion  to  Wagner  which  gave  her  the 
name  of  Elsa.  She  married  a  lawyer  and  litterateur 
in  Munich  named  Bernstein,  and  has  written  a  num- 
ber of  plays  besides  "Konigskinder,"  which  she  pub- 
lished in  1895,  and  afterward  asked  Herr  Humper- 
dinck (not  yet  a  royal  Prussian  professor,  but  a  simple 
musician,  who  had  made  essays  in  criticisms  and 
tried  to  make  a  composer  out  of  Siegfried  Wagner) 


"KONIGSKINDER"  205 

to  provide  with  incidental  music.  Mr.  Humper- 
dinck  took  his  task  seriously.  The  play,  with  some 
incidental  music,  was  two  years  old  before  Mr. 
Humperdinck  had  his  overture  ready.  He  had  tried 
a  new  experiment,  which  proved  a  failure.  The 
second  and  third  acts  had  their  preludes,  and  the 
songs  of  the  minstrel  had  their  melodies  and  accom- 
paniments, and  all  the  principal  scenes  had  been 
provided  with  illustrative  music  in  the  Wagnerian 
manner,  with  this  difference,  that  the  dialogue  had 
been  "pointed,"  as  a  church  musician  would  say  — 
that  is,  the  rhythm  was  indicated  with  exactness, 
and  even  the  variations  of  pitch,  though  it  was  under- 
stood that  the  purpose  was  not  to  achieve  song,  but 
an  intensified  utterance,  halfway  between  speech 
and  song.  This  was  melodrama,  as  Herr  Humper- 
dinck conceived  it  and  as  it  had  no  doubt  existed 
for  ages  —  ever  since  the  primitive  Greek  drama,  in 
fact.  It  is  easy  to  understand  how  Herr  Humper- 
dinck came  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  an  art- 
form  which,  though  accepted,  for  temporary  effect, 
by  Beethoven  and  Cherubini,  and  used  for  ballads 
with  greater  or  less  success  by  Schumann,  had  been 
harshly  rejected  by  his  great  model  and  master, 
Wagner.  Humperdinck  lives  in  Germany,  where 
in  nearly  every  theatre  there  is  more  or  less  of  an 
amalgamation  of  the  spoken  drama  and  the  opera  — 
where  choristers  play  small  parts  and  actors,  though 
not  professional  singers,  sing  when  not  too  much  is 
required  of  them.  And  yet  Herr  Humperdinck 


206  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

found  out  that  he  had  asked  too  much  of  his  actors 
with  his  "pointed"  and  at  times  intoned  declama- 
tion, and  "  Konigskinder "  did  not  have  to  come  to 
America  to  learn  that  the  compromise  was  a  failure. 
No  doubt  Herr  Humperdinck  thought  of  turning  so 
beautiful  a  play  into  an  opera  then,  but  it  seems  to 
have  required  the  stimulus  which  finally  came  from 
New  York  to  persuade  him  to  carry  out  the  operatic 
idea,  which  is  more  than  suggested  in  the  score  as 
it  lies  before  me  in  its  original  shape,  into  a  thorough 
lyric  drama.  The  set  pieces  which  had  lived  in  the 
interim  in  the  concert-room  were  transferred  into 
the  opera-score  with  trifling  alterations  and  con- 
densations and  so  were  the  set  songs.  As  for  the 
rest  it  needed  only  that  note-heads  be  supplied  to 
some  of  the  portions  of  the  dialogue  which  Humper- 
dinck had  designed  for  melodic  declamation  to  have 
those  portions  ready  for  the  opera.  Here  an  ex- 
ample :  — 


*n 


2 


E5S 


-s-r-X- 

_& 


Willst  du  mein  Mai-en-buh-le  sein,       du  Blu-men-wei-che? 


A  German  opera  can  generally  stand  severer  criti- 
cism than  one  in  another  language,  because  there  is 
a  more  strict  application  of  principles  in  Germany 
when  it  comes  to  writing  a  lyric  drama  than  in  any 
other  country.  So  in  the  present  instance  there  is  no 
need  to  conceal  the  fact  that  there  are  outbreaks  of 
eroticism  and  offences  against  the  German  language 


"KONIGSKINDER"  207 

which  are  none  the  less  flagrant  and  censurable  be- 
cause they  are,  to  some  extent,  concealed  under  the 
thin  veneer  of  the  allegory  and  symbolism  which 
every  reader  must  have  recognized  as  running 
through  the  play.  This  is,  in  a  manner,  Wagnerian, 
as  so  much  of  the  music  is  Wagnerian  —  especially 
that  of  the  second  act,  which  because  it  calls  up 
scenes  from  the  "  Meistersinger "  must  also  neces- 
sarily call  up  music  from  the  same  comedy.  But 
there  is  little  cause  here  for  quarrel  with  Professor 
Humperdinck.  He  has  applied  the  poetical  prin- 
ciple of  Wagner  to  the  fairy  tale  which  is  so  closely 
related  to  the  myth,  and  he  has  with  equal  consist- 
ency applied  Wagner's  constructive  methods  musi- 
cally and  dramatically.  It  is  to  his  great  honor  that, 
of  all  of  Wagner's  successors,  he  has  been  the  only 
one  to  do  so  successfully. 

The  story  of  "Konigskinder,"  though  it  belongs 
to  the  class  of  fairy  tales  of  which  "Hansel  und 
Gretel"  is  so  striking  and  beautiful  an  example,  is 
not  to  be  found  as  the  author  presents  it  in  the  litera- 
ture of  German  Mdrchen.  Mme.  Bernstein  has 
drawn  its  elements  from  many  sources  and  blended 
them  with  the  utmost  freedom.  To  avoid  a  mis- 
understanding Germans  will  insist  that  the  title  be 
used  without  the  article,  for  "Die  K6nigskinder "  or 
"Zwei  Konigskinder"  both  suggest  the  simple  Ger- 
man form  of  the  old  tale  of  Hero  and  Leander,  with 
which  story,  of  course,  it  has  nothing  whatever  to 
do.  But  if  literary  criticism  forbids  association 


208  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

between  Humperdinck's  two  operas,  musical  criti- 
cism compels  it.  Many  of  the  characters  in  the 
operas  are  close  relations,  dramatically  as  well  as 
musically  —  the  royal  children  themselves,  the 
witches,  of  course,  and  the  broom-makers.  The  rest 
of  the  characters  have  been  taken  from  Wagner's 
"Meistersinger"  picture  book ;  the  citizens  of  Hella- 
brunn  are  Nuremberg's  burghers,  the  city's  council- 
lors, the  old  master  singers.  The  musical  idiom  is 
Humperdinck's,  though  its  method  of  employment 
is  Wagner's.  But  here  lies  its  charm :  Though  the 
composer  hews  to  a  theoretical  line,  he  does  it  freely, 
naturally,  easily,  and  always  with  the  principle  of 
musical  beauty  as  well  as  that  of  dramatic  truthful- 
ness and  propriety  in  view.  His  people's  voices 
float  on  a  symphonic  stream,  but  the  voices  of  the 
instruments,  while  they  sing  on  in  endless  melody, 
use  the  idiom  which  nature  gave  them.  There  is 
admirable  characterization  in  the  orchestral  music, 
but  it  is  music  for  all  that;  it  never  descends  to 
mere  noise,  designed  to  keep  up  an  irritation  of  the 
nerves. 


CHAPTER  XV 
"BORIS  GODOUNOFF" 

FROM  whatever  point  of  view  it  may  be  considered 
Mossourgsky's  opera  "Boris  Godounoff"  is  an 
extraordinary  work.  It  was  brought  to  the  notice 
of  the  people  of  the  United  States  by  a  first  perform- 
ance at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  in  New  York, 
on  March  19,  1913,  but  intelligence  concerning  its 
character  had  come  to  observers  of  musical  doings 
abroad  by  reports  touching  performances  in  Paris 
and  London.  It  is  possible,  even  likely,  that  at 
all  the  performances  of  the  work  outside  of  Russia 
those  who  listened  to  it  with  the  least  amount  of 
intellectual  sophistication  derived  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure from  it,  though  to  them  its  artistic  deficiencies 
must  also  have  been  most  obvious.  Against  these 
deficiencies,  however,  it  presented  itself,  first  of  all, 
as  a  historical  play  shot  through  and  through  with  a 
large  theme,  which,  since  it  belongs  to  tragedy,  is 
universal  and  unhampered  by  time  or  place  or  people. 
To  them  it  had  something  of  the  sweep,  dignity,  and 
solemnity  and  also  something  of  the  dramatic  in- 
congruity and  lack  of  cohesion  of  a  Shakespearian 
drama  as  contradistinguished  from  the  coherence  of 
purpose  and  manner  of  a  modern  drama. 

T  209 


210  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

To  them  also  it  had  much  strangeness  of  style,  a 
style  which  was  not  easily  reconciled  to  anything 
with  which  the  modern  stage  had  made  them  familiar. 
They  saw  and  heard  the  chorus  enter  into  the  action, 
not  for  the  purpose  of  spectacular  pageantry,  nor  as 
hymners  of  the  achievements  of  the  principal  actors 
in  the  story,  but  as  participants.  They  heard  un- 
wonted accents  from  these  actors  and  saw  them  be- 
have in  conduct  which  from  moment  to  moment 
appeared  strangely  contradictory.  There  were  mut- 
tuings  of  popular  discontent,  which,  under  threats, 
gave  way  to  jubilant  acclamation  in  the  first  great 
scenes  in  the  beginning  of  the  opera.  There  were 
alternate  mockeries  and  adulations  in  the  next  scene 
in  which  the  people  figured;  and  running  through 
other  scenes  from  invisible  singers  came  ecclesiastical 
chants,  against  which  were  projected,  not  operatic 
^ong  in  the  old  conception,  but  long  passages  of 
heightened  speech,  half  declamatory,  half  musical. 
A  multitude  cringed  before  upraised  knouts  and 
fell  on  its  knees  before  the  approach  of  a  man  whose 
agents  swung  the  knotted  cords;  anon  they  ac- 
claimed the  man  who  sought  to  usurp  a  throne  and 
overwhelmed  with  ridicule  a  village  imbecile,  who 
was  yet  supposed  because  of  his  mental  weakness  to 
be  possessed  of  miraculous  prescience,  and  therefore 
to  have  a  prevision  of  what  was  to  follow  the  usurpa- 
tion. They  saw  the  incidents  of  the  drama  moving 
past  their  eyes  within  a  framework  of  barbaric 
splendor  typical  of  a  wonderful  political  past,  an 


"BORIS  GODOUNOFF"  ill 

amazing  political  present,  and  possibly  prophetic  of 
a  still  more  amazing  political  future. 

These  happily  ingenuous  spectators  saw  an  his- 
torical personage  racked  by  conscience,  nerve-torn 
by  spectres,  obsessed  by  superstitions,  strong  in 
position  achieved,  yet  pathetically  sweet  and  moving 
in  his  exhibition  of  paternal  love,  and  going  to 
destruction  through  remorse  for  crime  committed. 
They  were  troubled  by  no  curious  questionings  as 
to  the  accuracy  of  the  historical  representation. 
The  Boris  Godounoff  before  them  was  a  remorse- 
stricken  regicide,  whose  good  works,  if  he  did  any, 
had  to  be  summed  up  for  their  imagination  in  the  fact 
that  he  loved  his  son.  In  all  this,  and  also  in  some 
of  its  music,  the  new  opera  was  of  the  opera  operatic. 
But  to  the  unhappily  disingenuous  (or  perhaps  it 
would  be  better  to  say,  to  the  instructed)  there  was 
much  more  in  the  new  opera ;  and  it  was  this  more 
which  so  often  gave  judgment  pause,  even  while  it 
stimulated  interest  and  irritated  curiosity.  It  was  a 
pity  that  a  recent  extraordinary  outburst  of  enthu- 
siasm about  a  composer  and  an  opera  should  have 
had  the  effect  of  distorting  their  vision  and  disturb- 
ing their  judgment. 

There  was  a  reason  to  be  suspicious  touching  this 
enthusiasm,  because  of  its  origin.  It  came  from 
France  and  not  from  the  home  land  of  the  author  of 
the  play  or  the  composer  of  the  music.  Moreover, 
it  was  largely  based  upon  an  element  which  has  as 
little  genuineness  in  France  as  a  basis  of  judgment 


212  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

(and  which  must  therefore  be  set  down  largely  as  an 
affectation)  as  in  America.  Loud  hallelujahs  have 
been  raised  in  praise  of  Moussorgsky  because,  dis- 
carding conventional  law,  he  vitalized  the  music  of 
the  lyric  poem  and  also  the  dramatic  line,  by  making 
it  the  emotional  flowering  of  the  spoken  word. 
When  it  became  necessary  for  the  precious  inner 
brotherhood  of  Frenchmen  who  hold  burning  incense 
sticks  under  each  others'  noses  to  acclaim  "Pelleas 
et  Melisande"  as  a  new  and  beautiful  thing  in  dra- 
matic music,  it  was  announced  that  Moussorgsky 
was  like  Debussy  in  that  he  had  demonstrated  in  his 
songs  and  his  operas  that  vocal  melody  should  and 
could  be  written  in  accordance  with  the  rhythm  and 
accents  of  the  words.  We  had  supposed  that  we 
had  learned  that  lesson  not  only  from  Gluck  and 
Wagner,  but  from  every  true  musical  dramatist 
that  ever  lived !  And  when  the  Frenchmen  (and 
their  feeble  echoers  in  England  and  America)  began 
to  cry  out  that  the  world  make  obeisance  to  Mous- 
sorgsky on  that  score,  there  was  no  wonder  that  those 
whose  eagerness  to  enjoy  led  them  to  absorb  too  much 
information  should  ask  how  this  marvellous  psychical 
assonance  between  word  and  tone  was  to  be  con- 
veyed to  their  unfortunate  sense  and  feeling  after 
the  original  Russian  word  had  been  transmogrified 
into  French  or  English.  In  New  York  the  opera, 
which  we  know  to  be  saturated  in  some  respects 
with  Muscoviticm,  or  Slavicism,  and  which  we  have 
every  reason  to  believe  is  also  so  saturated  in  its 


"BORIS  GODOUNOFF"  213 

musico-verbal  essence,  was  sung  in  Italian.  With 
the  change  some  of  the  character  that  ought  to  make 
it  dear  to  the  Russian  heart  must  have  evaporated. 
It  is  even  likely  that  vigorous  English  would  have 
been  a  better  vehicle  than  the  "soft,  bastard  Latin  " 
for  the  forceful  utterances  of  the  operatic  people. 

It  is  a  pity  that  a  suspicion  of  disingenuousness 
and  affectation  should  force  itself  upon  one's  thoughts 
in  connection  with  the  French  enthusiasm  over  Mous- 
sorgsky ;  but  it  cannot  be  avoided.  So  far  as  Mous- 
sorgsky  reflects  anything  in  his  art,  it  is  realism  or 
naturalism,  and  the  latter  element  is  not  dominant 
in  French  music  now,  and  is  not  likely  to  be  so  long 
as  the  present  tendency  toward  sublimated  subjecti- 
vism prevails.  Debussy  acclaimed  Moussorgsky  en- 
thusiastically a  dozen  years  ago,  but  for  all  that 
Moussorgsky  and  Debussy  are  antipodes  in  art  — 
they  represent  extremes. 

It  is  much  more  likely  that  outside  of  its  purely 
literary  aspect  (a  large  aspect  in  every  respect  in 
France)  the  Moussorgsky  cult  of  the  last  few  years 
was  a  mere  outgrowth  of  the  political  affiliation 
between  France  and  Russia ;  as  such  it  may  be  looked 
upon  in  the  same  light  as  the  sudden  appreciation  of 
Berlioz  which  was  a  product  of  the  Chauvinism 
which  followed  the  Franco-Prussian  War.  It  is 
easy  even  for  young  people  of  the  day  in  which  I 
write  to  remember  when  a  Wagner  opera  at  the 
Academic  Nationale  raised  a  riot,  and  when  the 
dances  at  the  Moulin  Rouge  and  such  places  could 


214  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

not  begin  until  the  band  had  played  the  Russian 
national  hymn. 

Were  it  not  for  considerations  of  this  sort  it  would 
be  surprising  to  contemplate  the  fact  that  Mous- 
sorgsky  has  been  more  written  and  talked  about  in 
France  than  he  was  in  his  native  Russia,  and  that 
even  his  friend  Rimsky-Korsakoff,  to  whose  revision 
of  the  score  "Boris  Godounoff"  owes  its  continued 
existence,  has  been  subjected  to  much  rude  criticism 
because  of  his  work,  though  we  can  only  think  of  it 
as  taken  up  in  a  spirit  of  affection  and  admiration. 
He  and  the  Russians,  with  scarcely  an  exception, 
say  that  his  labors  were  in  the  line  of  purification 
and  rectification;  but  the  modern  extremists  will 
have  it  that  by  remedying  its  crudities  of  harmoniza- 
tion and  instrumentation  he  weakened  it  —  that 
what  he  thought  its  artistic  blemishes  were  its  virtues. 
Of  that  we  are  in  no  position  to  speak,  nor  ought  any 
one  be  rash  enough  to  make  the  proclamation  until 
the  original  score  is  published,  and  then  only  a  Russian 
or  a  musician  familiar  with  the  Russian  tongue  and 
its  genius.  The  production  of  the  opera  outside  of 
Russia  and  in  a  foreign  language  ought  to  furnish  an 
occasion  to  demand  a  stay  of  the  artistic  cant  which 
is  all  too  common  just  now  in  every  country. 

We  are  told  that  "Boris  Godounoff"  is  the  first 
real  Russian  opera  that  America  has  ever  heard. 
In  a  sense  that  may  be  true.  The  present  generation 
has  heard  little  operatic  music  by  Russian  composers. 
Rubinstein's  "Nero"  was  not  Russian  music  in  any 


"BORIS  GODOUNOFF"  215 

respect.  "Pique  Dame,"  by  Tschaikowsky,  also 
performed  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  had 
little  in  it  that  could  be  recognized  as  characteris- 
tically Russian.  "Eugene  Onegin"  we  know  only 
from  concert  performances,  and  its  Muscovitism 
was  a  negligible  quantity.  The  excerpts  from  other 
Russian  operas  have  been  few  and  they  demonstrated 
nothing,  though  in  an  intermezzo  from  Tschai- 
kowsky's  "Mazeppa,"  descriptive  of  the  battle  of 
Poltava,  which  has  been  heard  here,  we  met  with  the 
strong  choral  tune  which  gives  great  animation  to  the 
most  stirring  scene  in  "Boris"  —  the  acclamation 
of  the  Czar  by  the  populace  in  the  first  act.  Of  this 
something  more  presently.  There  were  American 
representations,  however,  of  a  Russian  opera  which 
in  its  day  was  more  popular  than  "Boris"  has  ever 
been ;  but  that  was  so  long  ago  that  all  memories  of  it 
have  died,  and  even  the  records  are  difficult  to  reach. 
Some  fifty  years  ago  a  Russian  company  came  to 
these  shores  and  performed  Verstoff  sky's  "Askold's 
Tomb,"  an  opera  which  was  republished  as  late  as 
1897  and  which  within  the  first  twenty-five  years 
of  its  existence  had  400  performances  in  Moscow 
and  200  hi  St.  Petersburg.  Some  venturesome 
critics  have  hailed  Verstoffsky  as  even  more  dis- 
tinctively a  predecessor  of  Moussorgsky  than  Glinka ; 
but  the  clamor  of  those  who  are  preaching  loudly  that 
art  must  not  exist  for  art's  sake,  and  that  the  ugly  is 
justified  by  the  beauty  of  ugliness,  has  silenced  the 
voices  of  these  critical  historians. 


216  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

This  may  thus  far  have  seemed  a  long  and  discur- 
sive disquisition  on  the  significance  of  the  new 
opera;  but  the  questions  to  which  the  production 
of  "Boris  Godounoff "  give  rise  are  many  and  grave, 
especially  in  the  present  state  of  our  operatic  activ- 
ities. They  have  a  strong  bearing  on  the  problem 
of  nationalism  in  opera,  of  which  those  in  charge  of 
our  operatic  affairs  appear  to  take  a  careless  view. 
Aside  from  all  aesthetic  questions,  "Boris  Godounoff" 
bears  heavily  on  that  problem.  It  is  a  work  crude 
and  fragmentary  in  structure,  but  it  is  tremendously 
puissant  in  its  preachment  of  nationalism ;  and  it  is 
strong  there  not  so  much  because  of  its  story  and  the 
splendid  barbarism  of  its  external  integument  as 
because  of  its  nationalism,  which  is  proclaimed  in  the 
use  of  Russian  folk-song.  All  previous  experiments 
in  this  line  become  insignificant  in  comparison  with  it, 
and  it  is  questionable  if  any  other  body  of  folk-song 
offers  such  an  opportunity  to  the  operatic  composer  as 
does  the  Russian.  The  hero  of  the  opera  is  in  dra- 
matic stature  (or  at  least  in  emotional  content)  a 
Macbeth  or  a  Richard  III ;  his  utterances  are  fre- 
quently poignant  and  heart  searching  in  the  extreme ; 
his  dramatic  portrayal  by  M.  Chaliapine  in  Europe 
and  Mr.  Didur  in  America  is  so  gripping  as  to  call 
up  memories  of  some  of  the  great  English  tragedians 
of  the  past.  But  we  cannot  speak  of  the  psychology 
of  the  musical  setting  of  his  words  because  we  have 
been  warned  that  it  roots  deeply  in  the  accents  and 
inflections  of  a  language  with  which  we  are  un- 


"BORIS  GODOUNOFF"  217 

familiar  and  which  was  not  used  in  the  performance. 
But  the  music  of  the  choral  masses,  the  songs  sung 
in  the  intimacy  of  the  Czar  Boris's  household,  the 
chants  of  the  monks,  needed  not  to  be  strange  to 
any  student  of  folk-song,  nor  could  their  puissance 
be  lost  upon  the  musically  unlettered.  In  the  old 
Koly£da  Song  "  Sldva  "  l  with  which  Boris  is  greeted 
by  the  populace,  as  well  as  in  the  wild  shoutings  of 
the  Polish  vagrom  men  and  women  in  the  scene 
before  the  last,  it  is  impossible  not  to  hear  an  out- 
pouring of  that  spirit  of  which  Tolstoi  wrote:  "In 
it  is  yearning  without  end,  without  hope;  also 
power  invincible,  the  fateful  stamp  of  destiny,  iron 
preordination,  one  of  the  fundamental  principles  of 
our  nationality  with  which  it  is  possible  to  explain 
much  that  in  Russian  life  seems  incomprehensible." 

No  other  people  have  such  a  treasure  of  folk-song 
to  draw  on  as  that  thus  characterized,  and  it  is 
not  likely  that  any  other  people  will  develop  a 
national  school  of  opera  on  the  lines  which  lie  open 
to  the  Russian  composer,  and  which  the  Russian 
composer  has  been  encouraged  to  exploit  by  his 
government  for  the  last  twenty  years  or  more. 

It  is  possible  that  some  critics,  actuated  by  political 
rather  than  artistic  considerations,  will  find  reasons 

1  Lovers  of  chamber  music  know  this  melody  from  its  use  in 
the  allegretto  in  Beethoven's  E  minor  Quartet  dedicated  to 
Count  Rasoumowski,  where  it  appears  thus:  — 


218  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

for  the  present  condition  of  Moussorgsky's  score  in 
the  attitude  of  the  Russian  government.  It  is  said 
that  court  intrigues  had  much  to  do  with  the  many 
changes  which  the  score  had  to  undergo  before  it  be- 
came entirely  acceptable  to  the  powers  that  be  in  the 
Czar's  empire.  Possibly.  But  every  change  which 
has  come  under  the  notice  of  this  reviewer  has  been 
to  its  betterment  and  made  for  its  practical  presenta- 
tion. It  is  said  that  the  popular  scenes  were  cur- 
tailed because  they  represented  the  voice  of  the 
democracy.  But  there  is  still  so  much  choral  work 
in  the  opera  that  the  judgment  of  the  operatic 
audiences  of  to-day  is  likely  to  pronounce  against 
it  measurably  on  that  account.  For,  splendid  as 
the  choral  element  in  the  work  is,  a  chorus  is  not 
looked  upon  with  admiration  as  a  dramatic  ele- 
ment by  the  ordinary  opera  lover.  There  was  a 
lack  of  the  feminine  element  in  the  opera,  and  to 
remedy  this  Moussorgsky  had  to  introduce  the 
Polish  bride  of  the  False  Dmitri  and  give  the  pair 
a  love  scene,  and  incidentally  a  polonaise ;  but  the 
love  scene  is  uninteresting  until  its  concluding 
measures,  and  these  are  too  Meyerbeerian  to  call 
for  comment  beyond  the  fact  that  Meyerbeer,  the 
much  contemned,  would  have  done  better.  As  for 
the  polonaise,  Tschaikowsky  has  written  a  more 
brilliant  one  for  his  "  Eugene  Onegin. " 

The  various  scores  of  the  opera  which  have  been 
printed  show  that  Moussorgsky,  with  all  his  genius, 
was  at  sea  even  when  it  came  to  applying  the  prin- 


"BORIS  GODOUNOFF"  219 

ciples  of  the  Young  Russian  School,  of  which  he  is  set 
down  as  a  strong  prop,  to  dramatic  composition. 
With  all  his  additions,  emendations,  and  rearrange- 
ments, his  opera  still  falls  much  short  of  being  a 
dramatic  unit.  It  is  a  more  loosely  connected  series 
of  scenes,  from  the  drama  of  Boris  Godounoff  and 
the  false  Dmitri,  than  Boito's  "Mefistofele"  is  of 
Goethe's  "Faust."  Had  he  had  his  own  way  the 
opera  would  have  ended  with  the  scene  in  which 
Dmitri  proceeds  to  Moscow  amid  the  huzzas  of  a 
horde  of  Polish  vagabonds,  and  we  should  have  had 
neither  a  Boris  nor  a  Dmitri  opera,  despite  the 
splendid  opportunities  offered  by  both  characters. 
It  was  made  a  Boris  opera  by  bringing  it  to  an  end 
with  the  death  of  Boris  and  leaving  everything 
except  the  scenes  in  which  the  Czar  declines  the  im- 
perial crown,  then  accepts  it,  and  finally  dies  of  a 
tortured  conscience,  to  serve  simply  as  intermezzi, 
in  which  for  the  moment  the  tide  of  tragedy  is  turned 
aside.  This  and  the  glimpse  into  the  paternal 
heart  of  the  Czar  is  the  only  and  beautiful  purpose  of 
the  domestic  scene,  in  which  the  lighter  and  more 
cheerful  element  of  Russian  folk-song  is  introduced. 
At  the  first  American  performance  of  "Boris 
Godounoff"  the  cast  was  as  follows:  — 

Boris Adamo  Didur 

Theodore Anna  Case 

Xenia Lenora  Sparkes 

The  Nurse Mara  Duch^ne 

Marina . .  Louise  Homer 


22U  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Schouisky Angelo  Bada 

Tchelkaloff Vincenzo  Reschiglian 

Pimenn Le*on  Rothier 

Dmitri Paul  Althouse  (his  debut) 

Varlaam Andrea  de  Segurola 

Missail Pietro  Audisio 

The  Innkeeper Jeanne  Maubourg 

The  Simpleton Albert  Reiss 

A  Police  Officer Giulio  Rossi 

A  Court  Officer Leopoldo  Mariani 

Lovitzky \  T       Tpq11:tq  /V.  Reschiglian 

Tcerniakowsky  J1  '  \LouisKreidler 

Conductor :  Arturo  Toscanini 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"MADAME  SANS-GENE"  AND  OTHER  OPERAS  BY 
GIORDANO 

THE  opera-goers  of  New  York  enjoyed  a  novel 
experience  when  Giordano's  "Madame  Sans-G&ie" 
had  its  first  performance  on  any  stage  in  their 
presence  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  on  Jan- 
uary 25,  1915.  It  was  the  first  time  that  a  royal  and 
imperial  personage  who  may  be  said  to  live  freshly 
and  vividly  in  the  minds  of  the  people  of  this  genera- 
tion as  well  as  in  their  imaginations  appeared  before 
them  to  sing  his  thoughts  and  feelings  in  operatic 
fashion.  At  first  blush  it  seemed  as  if  a  singing 
Bonaparte  was  better  calculated  to  stir  their  risibil- 
ities than  their  interest  or  sympathies ;  and  this  may, 
indeed,  have  been  the  case ;  but  at  any  rate  they  had 
an  opportunity  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Na- 
poleon before  he  rose  to  imperial  estate.  But,  in  all 
seriousness,  it  is  easier  to  imagine  the  figure  which 
William  II  of  Germany  would  cut  on  the  operatic 
stage  than  the  "grand,  gloomy,  and  peculiar" 
Corsican.  The  royal  people  with  whom  the  operatic 
public  is  familiar  as  a  rule  are  sufficiently  surrounded 
by  the  mists  of  antiquity  and  obscurity  that  the 

221 


222  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

contemplation  of  them  arouse  little  thought  of  the 
incongruity  which  their  appearance  as  operatic  heroes 
ought  to  create.  Henry  the  Fowler  in  "  Lohengrin/' 
Mark  in  "Tristan  und  Isolde,"  the  unnumbered 
Pharaoh  in  "Aida,"  Herod  in  "Salome"  and 
"Herodiade,"  and  the  few  other  kings,  if  there  are 
any  more  with  whom  the  present  generation  of 
opera-goers  have  a  personal  acquaintance,  so  to 
speak,  are  more  or  less  merely  poetical  creations 
whom  we  seldom  if  ever  think  of  in  connection  with 
veritable  history.  Even  Boris  Godounoff  is  to  us 
more  a  picture  out  of  a  book,  like  the  Macbeth  whom 
he  so  strongly  resembles  from  a  theatrical  point  of 
view,  than  the  monarch  who  had  a  large  part  in  the 
making  of  the  Russian  people.  The  Roman  censor- 
ship prevented  us  long  ago  from  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Gustavus  of  Sweden  whom  Ankerstrom 
stabbed  to  death  at  a  masked  ball,  by  transmog- 
rifying him  into  the  absurdly  impossible  figure  of 
a  Governor  of  Boston;  and  the  Claudius  of  Ambroise 
Thomas's  opera  is  as  much  a  ghost  as  Hamlet's  father, 
while  Debussy's  blind  King  is  as  much  an  abstrac- 
tion as  is  Melisande  herself. 

Operatic  dukes  we  know  in  plenty,  though  most  of 
them  have  come  out  of  the  pages  of  romance  and  are 
more  or  less  acceptable  according  to  the  vocal  ability 
of  their  representatives.  When  Caruso  sings  "La 
donna  e  mobile"  we  care  little  for  the  profligacy  of 
Verdi's  Duke  of  Mantua  and  do  not  inquire  whether 
or  not  such  an  individual  ever  lived.  Moussorgsky's 


"MADAME  SANS-G^NE"  223 

Czar  Boris  ought  to  interest  us  more,  however.  The 
great  bell-tower  in  the  Kremlin  which  he  built,  and 
the  great  bell  —  a  shattered  monument  of  one  of  his 
futile  ambitions  — have  been  seen  by  thousands  of 
travellers  who  never  took  the  trouble  to  learn  that 
the  tyrant  who  had  the  bell  cast  laid  a  serfdom  upon 
the  Russian  people  which  endured  down  to  our  day. 
Boris,  by  the  way,  picturesque  and  dramatic  figure 
that  he  is  as  presented  to  us  in  history,  never  got 
upon  the  operatic  stage  until  Moussorgsky  took  him 
in  hand.  Two  hundred  years  ago  a  great  German 
musician,  Mattheson,  as  much  scholar  as  composer 
if  not  more,  set  him  to  music,  but  the  opera  was 
never  performed.  Peter  the  Great,  who  came  a 
century  after  Boris,  lived  a  life  more  calculated 
to  invite  the  attention  of  opera  writers,  but  even  he 
escaped  the  clutches  of  dramatic  composers  except 
Lortzing,  who  took  advantage  of  the  romantic  epi- 
sode of  Peter's  service  as  ship  carpenter  in  Holland 
to  make  him  the  hero  of  one  of  the  most  sparkling  of 
German  comic  operas.  Lortzing  had  a  successor  in 
the  Irishman  T.  S.  Cooke,  but  his  opera  found  its 
way  into  the  limbo  of  forgotten  things  more  than  a 
generation  ago,  while  Lortzing's  still  lives  on  the  stage 
of  Germany.  Peter  deserved  to  be  celebrated  in 
music,  for  it  was  in  his  reign  that  polyphonic  music, 
albeit  of  the  Italian  order,  was  introduced  into  the 
Russian  church  and  modern  instrumental  musio 
effected  an  entrance  into  his  empire.  But  I  doubt 
if  Peter  was  sincerely  musical ;  in  his  youth  he  heard 


224  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

only  music  of  the  rudest  kind.  He  was  partial  to 
the  bagpipes  and,  like  Nero,  played  upon  that 
instrument. 

To  come  back  to  Bonaparte  and  music.  "Ma- 
dame Sans-Gene"  is  an  operatic  version  of  the  drama 
which  Sardou  developed  out  of  a  little  one-act  play 
dealing  with  a  partly  fictitious,  partly  historical  story 
in  which  Napoleon,  his  marshal  Lefebvre,  and  a  laun- 
dress were  the  principal  figures.  Whether  or  not 
the  great  Corsican  could  be  justified  as  a  character 
in  a  lyric  drama  was  a  mooted  question  when  Gior- 
dano conceived  the  idea  of  making  an  opera  out  of 
the  play.  It  is  said  that  Verdi  remarked  something 
to  the  effect  that  the  question  depended  upon  what 
he  would  be  caUed  upon  to  sing,  and  how  he  would  be 
expected  to  sing  it.  The  problem  was  really  not  a 
very  large  or  difficult  one,  for  all  great  people  are 
turned  into  marionettes  when  transformed  into 
operatic  heroes. 

In  the  palmy  days  of  bel  canto  no  one  would  have 
raised  the  question  at  all,  for  then  the  greatest  char- 
acters in  history  moved  about  the  stage  in  stately 
robes  and  sang  conventional  arias  in  the  conventional 
manner.  The  change  from  old-fashioned  opera  to 
regenerated  lyric  drama  might  have  simplified  the 
problem  for  Giordano,  even  if  his  librettist  had  not 
already  done  so  by  reducing  Napoleon  to  his  lowest 
terms  from  a  dramatic  as  well  as  historical  point  of 
view.  The  heroes  of  eighteenth-century  opera  were 
generally  feeble-minded  lovers  and  nothing  more; 


"MADAME  SANS-GENE"  225 

Giordano's  Napoleon  is  only  a  jealous  husband  who 
helps  out  in  the  denouement  of  a  play  which  is  con- 
cerned chiefly  with  other  people. 

In  turning  Sardou's  dramatic  personages  into 
operatic  puppets  a  great  deal  of  bloodletting  was 
necessary  and  a  great  deal  of  the  characteristic  charm 
of  the  comedy  was  lost,  especially  in  the  cases  of 
Madame  Sans-G&ne  herself  and  Napokon's  sister; 
but  enough  was  left  to  make  a  practicable  opera. 
There  were  the  pictures  of  all  the  plebeians  who 
became  great  folk  later  concerned  in  the  historical 
incidents  which  lifted  them  up.  There  were  also  the 
contrasted  pictures  which  resulted  from  the  great 
transformation,  and  it  was  also  the  ingratiating 
incident  of  the  devotion  of  Lefebvre  to  the  stout- 
hearted, honest  little  woman  of  the  people  who  had 
to  try  to  be  a  duchess.  All  this  was  fair  operatic 
material,  though  music  has  a  strange  capacity  for 
refining  stage  characters  as  well  as  for  making  them 
colorless.  Giordano  could  not  do  himself  justice  as 
a  composer  without  refining  the  expression  ofCaterina 
Huebscher,  and  so  his  Duchess  of  Dantzic  talks  a 
musical  language  at  least  which  Sardou's  washer- 
woman could  not  talk  and  remain  within  the  dramatic 
verities.  Therefore  we  have  "Madame  Sans-Gene" 
with  a  difference,  but  not  one  that  gave  any  more 
offence  than  operatic  treatment  of  other  fine  plays 
have  accustomed  us  to. 

To  dispose  of  the  artistic  merits  of  the  opera  as 
briefly  as  possible,  it  may  be  said  that  in  more  ways 
Q 


226  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

than  one  Giordano  has  in  this  work  harked  back  to 
"Andrea  Chenier, "  the  first  of  his  operas  which  had 
a  hearing  in  America.  The  parallel  extends  to  some 
of  the  political  elements  of  the  book  as  well  as  its 
musical  investiture  with  its  echoes  of  the  popular  airs 
of  the  period  of  the  French  Revolution.  The  style 
of  writing  is  also  there,  though  applied,  possibly, 
with  more  mature  and  refined  skill.  I  cannot  say 
with  as  much  ingenuousness  and  freshness  of  inven- 
tion, however.  Its  spirit  in  the  first  act,  and  largely 
in  the  second,  is  that  of  the  opera  bouffe,  but  there 
are  many  pages  of  "Madame  Sans-Gene"  which  I 
would  gladly  exchange  for  any  one  of  the  melodies  of 
Lecocq,  let  us  say  in  "La  Fille  de  Mme.  Angot." 
Like  all  good  French  music  which  uses  and  imitates 
them,  it  is  full  of  crisp  rhythms  largely  developed  from 
the  old  dances  which,  originally  innocent,  were  de- 
graded to  base  uses  by  the  sans-culottes ;  and  so  there 
is  an  abundance  of  lif  e  and  energy  in  the  score  though 
little  of  the  distinction,  elegance,  and  grace  that  have 
always  been  characteristic  of  French  music,  whether 
high-born  or  low.  The  best  melody  in  the  modern 
Italian  vein  flows  in  the  second  act  when  the  genuine 
affection  and  fidelity  of  Caterina  find  expression 
and  where  a  light  touch  is  combined  with  consider- 
able warmth  of  feeling  and  a  delightful  daintiness  of 
orchestral  color.  Much  of  this  is  out  of  harmony  with 
the  fundamental  character  of  Sardou's  woman,  but 
music  cannot  deny  its  nature.  Only  a  Moussorgsky 
could  make  a  drunken  monk  talk  truthfully  in  music. 


"MADAME  SANS-GENE"  227 

If  Giordano's  opera  failed  to  make  a  profound  im- 
pression on  the  New  York  public,  it  was  not  because 
that  public  had  not  had  opportunity  to  learn  the 
quality  of  his  music.  His  "Andrea  Chenier"  had 
been  produced  at  the  Academy  of  Music  as  long 
before  as  November  13,  1896.  With  it  the  redoubt- 
able Colonel  Mapleson  went  down  to  his  destruction 
in  America.  It  was  one  of  the  many  strange  inci- 
dents in  the  career  of  Mr.  Oscar  Hammerstein  as  I 
have  related  them  in  my  book  entitled  "Chapters  of 
Opera"  1  that  it  should  have  been  brought  back 
by  him  twelve  years  later  for  a  single  performance 
at  the  Manhattan  Opera  House.  In  the  season  of 
1916-1917  it  was  incorporated  in  the  repertory 
of  the  Boston-National  Opera  Company  and  carried 
to  the  principal  cities  of  the  country.  On  December 
16,  1906,  Mr.  Heinrich  Conried  thought  that  the 
peculiar  charms  of  Madame  Cavalieri,  combined 
with  the  popularity  of  Signer  Caruso,  might  give 
habitation  to  Giordano's  setting  of  an  opera  book 
made  out  of  Sardou's  "F6dora"  ;  but  it  endured  for 
only  four  performances  in  the  season  of  1906-190? 
and  three  in  the  next,  in  which  Conried 's  career  came 
to  an  end.  In  reviving  "Andrea  Chenier "  Mr.  Ham- 
merstein may  have  had  visions  of  future  triumphs 
for  its  composer,  for  a  few  weeks  before  (on  Feb- 
ruary 5,  1908)  he  had  brought  forward  the  same 
composer's  "Siberia,"  which  gave  some  promise  of 
life,  though  it  died  with  the  season  that  saw  its  birth. 

i  New  York,  Henry  Holt  &  Co. 


228  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

The  critical  mind  seems  disposed  to  look  with 
kindness  upon  new  works  in  proportion  as  they  fall 
back  in  the  corridors  of  memory;  and  so  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  of  the  four  operas  by  Giordano 
which  I  have  heard  "Andrea  Chenier  "  gives  greatest 
promise  of  a  long  life.  The  attempt  to  put  music  to 
"Fedora"  seemed  to  me  utterly  futile.  Only  those 
moments  were  musical  in  the  accepted  sense  of  the 
word  when  the  action  of  the  drama  ceased,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  intermezzo,  or  when  the  old  principles  of 
operatic  construction  waked  into  life  again  as  in  the 
confession  of  the  hero-lover.  Here,  moreover,  there 
comes  into  the  score  an  element  of  novelty,  for  the 
confession  is  extorted  from  Lorris  while  a  virtuoso  is 
entertaining  a  drawing-roomful  of  people  with  a  set 
pianoforte  solo.  As  for  the  rest  of  the  opera,  it  seems 
sadly  deficient  in  melody  beautiful  either  in  itself 
or  as  an  expression  of  passion.  "Andrea  Chenier" 
has  more  to  commend  it.  To  start  with,  there  is  a 
good  play  back  of  it,  though  the  verities  of  history 
were  not  permitted  to  hamper  the  imagination  of 
Signor  Illica,  the  author  of  the  book.  The  hero  of 
the  opera  is  the  patriotic  poet  who  fell  under  the  guil- 
lotine in  1794  at  the  age  of  thirty-two.  The  place 
which  Saint-Beuve  gave  him  in  French  letters  is  that 
of  the  greatest  writer  of  classic  verse  after  Racine 
and  Boileau.  The  operatic  story  is  all  fiction,  more 
so,  indeed,  than  that  of  "Madame  Sans-Gene."  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  veritable  Chenier  was  thrown 
into  prison  on  the  accusation  of  having  sheltered 


"MADAME  SANS-GENE"  229 

a  political  criminal,  and  was  beheaded  together 
with  twenty-three  others  on  a  charge  of  having 
engaged  in  a  conspiracy  while  in  prison.  In  the 
opera  he  does  not  die  for  political  reasons,  though 
they  are  alleged  as  a  pretext,  but  because  he  has 
crossed  the  love-path  of  a  leader  of  the  revolution. 

When  Giordano  composed  "Siberia,"  he  followed 
the  example  of  Mascagni  and  Puccini  (if  he  did  not 
set  the  example  for  them)  by  seeking  local  color  and 
melodic  material  in  the  folk-songs  of  the  country  in 
which  his  scene  was  laid.  Puccini  went  to  Japan 
for  musical  ideas  and  devices  to  trick  out  his  "Ma- 
dama  Butterfly"  as  Mascagni  had  done  in  "Iris." 
Giordano,  illustrating  a  story  of  political  oppression 
in  "Siberia,"  called  in  the  aid  of  Russian  melodies. 
His  exiles  sing  the  heavy-hearted  measures  of  the 
bargemen  of  the  Volga,  "Ay  ouchnem,"  the  forceful 
charm  of  which  few  Russian  composers  have  been 
able  to  resist.  He  introduced  also  strains  of  Easter 
music  from  the  Greek  church,  the  popular  song 
known  among  the  Germans  as  "Schone  Minka"  and 
the  "Glory"  song  (Slava)  which  Moussorgsky  had 
forged  into  a  choral  thunderbolt  in  his  "Boris 
Godounoff."  It  is  a  stranger  coincidence  that  the 
"Slava"  melody  should  have  cropped  up  in  the 
operas  of  Giordano  and  Moussorgsky  than  that 
the  same  revolutionary  airs  should  pepper  the  pages 
of  "Madame  Sans-Gene"  and  "Andrea  Chenier." 
These  operas  are  allied  in  subject  and  period  and 
the  same  style  of  composition  is  followed  in  both. 


230  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Chenier  goes  to  his  death  in  the  opera  to  the  tune  of 
the  "Marseillaise"  and  the  men  march  past  the 
windows  of  Caterina  Huebscher's  laundry  singing 
the  refrain  of  Roget  de  Lisle's  hymn.  But  Giordano 
does  not  make  extensive  use  of  the  tune  in  "  Madame 
Sans-Gene."  It  appears  literally  at  the  place  men- 
tioned and  surges  up  with  fine  effect  in  a  speech  in 
which  the  Duchess  of  Dantzic  overwhelms  the  proud 
sisters  of  Napoleon;  but  that  is  practically  all. 
The  case  is  different  with  two  other  revolutionary 
airs.  The  first  crash  of  the  orchestra  launches  us 
into  "La  Carmagnole,"  whose  melody  provides 
the  thematic  orchestral  substratum  for  nearly  the 
entire  first  scene.  It  is  an  innocent  enough  tune, 
differing  little  from  hundreds  of  French  vaudeville 
melodies  of  its  period,  but  Giordano  injects  vitriol 
into  its  veins  by  his  harmonies  and  orchestration. 
With  all  its  innocence  this  was  the  tune  which  came 
from  the  raucous  throats  of  politically  crazed  men  and 
women  while  noble  heads  tumbled  into  the  bloody 
sawdust,  while  the  spoils  of  the  churches  were  carried 
into  the  National  Convention  in  1793,  and  to  which 
"several  members,  quitting  their  curule  chairs,  took 
the  hands  of  girls  flaunting  in  priests'  vestures"  and 
danced  a  wild  rout,  as  did  other  mad  wretches  when 
a  dancer  was  worshipped  as  the  Goddess  of  Reason 
in  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame. 

Caterings  account  of  the  rude  familiarity  with 
which  she  is  treated  by  the  soldiery  (I  must  assume  a 
knowledge  of  Sardou's  play  which  the  opera  follows) 


"MADAME  SANS-GENE"  231 

is  set  to  a  melody  of  a  Russian  folk-song  cast  in  the 
treatment  of  which  Russian  influences  may  also  be 
felt ;  but  with  the  first  shouts  of  the  mob  attacking 
the  Tuileries  in  the  distance  the  characteristic 
rhythmical  motif  of  the  "Qa  ira"  is  heard  muttering 
in  the  basses.  Again  a  harmless  tune  which  in  its 
time  was  perverted  to  a  horrible  use ;  a  lively  little 
contradance  which  graced  many  a  cotillion  in  its 
early  days,  but  which  was  roared  and  howled  by  the 
mob  as  it  carried  the  beauteous  head  of  the  Lam- 
balle  through  the  streets  of  Paris  on  a  pike  and  thrust 
it  almost  into  the  face  of  Marie  Antoinette. 

Of  such  material  and  a  pretty  little  dance  ("La 
Fricassee")  is  the  music  of  the  first  act,  punctuated 
by  cannon  shots,  made.  It  is  all  rhythmically  stir- 
ring, it  flows  spiritedly,  energetically  along  with  the 
current  of  the  play,  never  retarding  it  for  a  moment, 
but,  unhappily,  never  sweetening  it  with  a  grain 
of  pretty  sentiment  or  adorning  it  with  a  really  grace- 
ful contour.  There  is  some  graciousness  in  the 
court  scene,  some  archness  and  humor  hi  the  scene  in 
which  the  Duchess  of  Dantzic  submits  to  the  adorn- 
ment of  her  person,  some  dramatically  strong  decla- 
mation in  the  speeches  of  Napoleon,  some  simulation 
of  passion  in  the  love  passages  of  Lefebvre  and  of 
Neipperg;  but  as  a  rule  the  melodic  flood  never 
reaches  high  tide. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TWO   OPERAS   BY   WOLF-FERRARI 

WHEN  the  operas  of  Ermanno  Wolf -Ferrari  came 
to  America  (his  beautiful  setting  of  the  "Vita  Nuova" 
was  already  quite  widely  known  at  the  time),  it  was 
thought  singular  and  somewhat  significant  that 
though  the  operas  had  all  been  composed  to  Italian 
texts  they  should  have  their  first  Italian  perform- 
ances in  this  country.  This  was  the  case  with 
"Le  Donne  Curiose,"  heard  at  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House,  New  York,  on  January  3,  1912; 
of  "H  Segreto  di  Susanna,"  which  the  Chicago- 
Philadelphia  Opera  Company  brought  to  New 
York  after  giving  it  a  hearing  in  its  home  cities, 
in  February,  1912;  of  "I  Giojelli  della  Madonna" 
first  produced  in  Berlin  in  December,  1911,  and  in 
Chicago  a  few  weeks  later.  A  fourth  opera, 
"L'Amore  Medico,"  had  its  first  representation  at 
the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  New  York,  on 
March  25,  1914. 

The  circumstance  to  which  I  have  alluded  as 
worthy  of  comment  was  due,  I  fancy,  more  to  the 
business  methods  of  modern  publishers  than  to  a 
want  of  appreciation  of  the  operas  in  Italy,  though 

232 


TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI  233 


A  PAGE  OP  THE  SCORE  OP  THE  GERMAN  "DONNB  CURIOSB" 


234 

Signer  Wolf-Ferrari  sought  to  meet  the  taste  of 
his  countrymen  (assuming  that  the  son  of  a  German 
father  and  a  Venetian  mother  is  to  be  set  down  as 
an  Italian)  when  he  betrayed  the  true  bent  of  his 
genius  and  sought  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  Italian 
veritists  in  his  "  Giojelli  della  Madonna."  However, 
that  is  not  the  question  I  am  desirous  to  discuss  just 
now  when  the  first  impressions  of  "Le  Donne 
Curiose"  come  flocking  back  to  my  memory.  The 
book  is  a  paraphrase  of  Goldoni's  comedy  of  the 
same  name,  made  (and  very  deftly  made)  for  the 
composer  by  Count  Luigi  Sugana.  It  turns  on 
the  curiosity  of  a  group  of  women  concerning  the 
doings  of  their  husbands  and  sweethearts  at  a  club 
from  which  they  are  excluded.  The  action  is  merely 
a  series  of  incidents  in  which  the  women  (the  wives 
by  rifling  the  pockets  of  their  husbands,  the  maidens 
by  wheedling,  cajoling,  and  playing  upon  the  feel- 
ings of  their  sweethearts)  obtain  the  keys  of  the 
club-room,  and  effect  an  entrance  only  to  find  that 
instead  of  gambling,  harboring  mistresses,  seeking 
the  philosopher's  stone,  or  digging  for  treasure,  as 
is  variously  suspected,  the  men  are  enjoying  an 
innocent  supper.  In  their  eagerness  to  see  all  that 
is  going  on,  the  women  betray  their  presence.  Then 
there  follow  scoldings,  contrition,  forgiveness,  a 
graceful  minuet,  and  the  merriment  runs  out  in  a 
wild  furlana. 

Book  and  score  of  the  opera  hark  back  a  century 
or  more  in  their  methods  of  expression.    The  in- 


TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI  236 

cidents  of  the  old  comedy  are  as  loosely  strung 
together  as  those  of  "Le  Nozze  di  Figaro,"  and  the 
parallel  is  carried  further  by  the  similarity  between 
the  instrumental  apparatus  of  Mozart  and  Wolf- 
Ferrari  and  the  dependence  of  both  on  melody, 
rather  than  orchestral  or  harmonic  device,  as  the 
life-blood  of  the  music  upon  which  the  comedy 
floats.  It  is  Mozart's  orchestra  that  the  modern 
composer  uses  ("the  only  proper  orchestra  for 
comedy,"  as  Berlioz  said),  eschewing  even  those 
"epical  instruments;"  the  trombones.  It  would  not 
do  to  push  the  parallel  too  far,  though  a  keen  listener 
might  feel  tempted  also  to  see  a  point  of  semblance 
in  the  Teutonism  which  tinctures  the  Italian  music 
of  both  men ;  a  Teutonism  which  adds  an  ingredient 
more  to  the  taste  of  other  peoples  than  that  of  the 
people  whose  language  is  employed.  But  while  the 
Italianism  of  Mozart  was  wholly  the  product  of 
the  art-spirit  of  his  time,  the  Teutonism  of  Wolf- 
Ferrari  is  a  heritage  from  his  German  father  and 
its  Italianism  partakes  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  a 
reversion  to  old  ideals  from  which  even  his  mother's 
countrymen  have  departed.  There  is  an  almost 
amusing  illustration  of  this  in  the  paraphrase  of 
Goldoni's  comedy  which  the  composer  took  as  a 
libretto.  The  Leporello  of  Da  Ponte  and  Mozart 
has  his  prototype  in  the  Arlecchino  of  the  classic 
Italian  comedy,  but  he  has  had  to  submit  to  so 
great  a  metamorphosis  as  to  make  him  scarcely 
recognizable.  But  in  the  modern  "  Donne  Curiose ' 


236  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

we  have  not  only  the  old  figure  down  to  his  con- 
ventional dress  and  antics;  but  also  his  companions 
Pantaloon  and  Columbine.  All  this,  however,  may  be 
better  enjoyed  by  those  who  observe  them  in  the 
representation  than  those  who  will  only  read  about 
them,  no  matter  how  deftly  the  analysis  may  be  made. 

It  is  Mozart's  media  and  Mozart's  style  which 
Wolf-Ferrari  adopts,  but  there  are  traces  also  of 
the  idioms  of  others  who  have  been  universal  musi- 
cians rather  than  specifically  Italian.  Like  Nicolai's 
"0  siisse  Anna!"  (Shakespeare's  "Oh,  Sweet  Anne 
Page"),  Wolf -Ferrari's  Florindo  breathes  out  his 
languishing  "Ah,  Rosaura ! "  And  in  the  lively 
chatter  of  the  women  there  is  frequently  more 
than  a  suggestion  of  the  lively  gossip  of  Verdi's 
merry  wives  in  his  incomparable  "Falstaff."  Wolf- 
Ferrari  is  neither  a  Mozart  nor  a  Verdi,  not  even  a 
Nicolai,  as  a  melodist,  but  he  is  worthy  of  being 
bracketed  with  them,  because  as  frankly  as  they 
he  has  spoken  the  musical  language  which  to  him 
seemed  a  proper  investiture  of  his  comedy,  and  like 
them  has  made  that  language  characteristic  of  the 
comedy's  personages  and  illustrative  of  its  incidents. 
He  has  been  brave  enough  not  to  fear  being  called  a 
reactionary,  knowing  that  there  is  always  progress 
in  the  successful  pursuit  of  beauty. 

The  advocates  of  opera  sung  in  the  language 
native  to  the  hearers  may  find  an  eloquent  argu- 
ment in  "Le  Donne  Curiose,"  much  of  whose  humor 
lies  in  the  text  and  is  lost  to  those  who  cannot  under- 


TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI  237 

stand  it  despite  the  obviousness  of  its  farcical  action. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  f eeling  of  gratitude  must  have 
been  felt  by  many  others  that  they  were  not  com- 
pelled to  hear  the  awkward  commonplaces  of  the 
English  translation  of  the  libretto.  The  German 
version,  in  which  the  opera  had  its  first  hearing  in 
Munich  six  years  before,  is  in  a  vastly  different 
case  —  neither  uncouth  nor  halting,  even  though  it 
lacks  the  characteristic  fluency  essential  to  Italian 
opera  buff  a;  yet  no  more  than  did  the  speech  of 
most  of  the  singers  at  the  Metropolitan  performance. 
The  ripple  and  rattle  of  the  Italian  parlando  seem 
to  be  possible  only  to  Italian  tongues. 

The  Mozartian  type  of  music  is  illustrated  not 
only  in  the  character  of  many  of  its  melodies,  but 
also  in  the  use  of  motivi  in  what  may  be  called  the 
dramatic  portions  —  the  fleet  flood  upon  which  the 
dialogue  dances  with  a  light  buoyancy  that  is  de- 
lightfully refreshing.  These  motivi  are  not  used  in 
the  Wagnerian  manner,  but  as  every  change  of 
situation  or  emotion  is  characterized  in  Mozart's 
marvellous  ensembles  by  the  introduction  of  a 
new  musical  idea,  so  they  are  in  his  modem  disciple's. 
All  of  them  are  finely  characteristic,  none  more  so 
than  the  comical  cackle  so  often  heard  from  the 
oboe  in  the  scenes  wherein  the  women  gossip  about 
the  imaginary  doings  of  the  men  — an  intentional 
echo,  it  would  almost  seem,  of  the  theme  out  of 
which  Rameau  made  his  dainty  harpsichord  piece 
known  as  "La  Poule."  The  motto  of  the  club, 


288  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

"Bandie  xe  le  done,"  is  frequently  proclaimed  with 
more  or  less  pomposity;  Florindo's  "Ah,  Rosaura," 
with  its  dramatic  descent,  lends  sentimental  feeling 
to  the  love  music,  and  the  sprightly  rhythm  which 
accompanies  the  pranks  of  Colombina  keeps  much 
of  the  music  bubbling  with  merriment.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  third  act,  not  only  the  instrumental 
introduction,  but  much  of  the  delightful  music  which 
follows,  is  permeated  with  atmosphere  and  local  color 
derived  from  a  familiar  Venetian  barcarolle  ("La 
biondina  in  gondoleta"),  but  the  musical  loveliness 
reaches  its  climax  in  the  sentimental  scenes  —  a 
quartet,  a  solo  by  Rosaura,  and  a  duet,  in  which 
there  breathes  the  sympathetic  spirit  of  Smetana 
as  well  as  Mozart.1 

1  The  east  at  the  first  performance  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House  was  as  follows: — 

Ottavio Adamo  Dfdur 

Beatrice Jeanne  Maubourg 

Rosaura , Geraldine  Farrar 

Plorindo Hermann  Jadlowker 

Pantalone Antonio  Pini-Corso 

Lelio Antonio  Scotti 

Leandro Angelo  Bada 

Colombina Bella  Alten 

Eleonora Rita  Fornia 

Arlecchino Andrea  de  Segurola 

Asdrubale Pietro  Audisio 

Almoro Lambert  Murphy 

Alvise Charles  Hargreaves 

Lunardo Vincenzo  Reschiglian 

Momolo Paolo  Ananian 

Menego Giulio  Rossi 

Un  Servitore Stef en  Buckreus 

Conductor  —  Arturo  Tosoanini. 


TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI  239 

In  "Le  Donne  Curiose,"  the  gondoliers  sing  their 
barcarolle  and  compel  even  the  cynic  of  the  drama 
to  break  out  into  an  enthusiastic  exclamation: 
"Oh,  beautiful  Venice!"  The  world  has  heard 
more  of  the  natural  beauties  of  Naples  than  of  the 
artificial  ones  of  Venice,  but  when  Naples  is  made 
the  scene  of  a  drama  of  any  kind  it  seems  that  its 
attractions  for  librettist  and  composer  lie  in  the 
vulgarity  and  vice,  libertinism  and  lust,  the  wicked- 
ness and  wantonness,  of  a  portion  of  its  people  rather 
than  in  the  loveliness  of  character  which  such  a 
place  might  or  ought  to  inspire. 

Perhaps  it  was  not  altogether  surprising  that 
when  Wolf -Ferrari  turned  from  Venice  and  "Le 
Donne  Curiose"  to  "I  Giojelli  della  Madonna"  with 
Naples  as  a  theatre  for  his  drama  he  should  not 
only  change  the  style  of  his  music,  but  also  revert 
to  the  kind  of  tale  which  his  predecessors  in  the  field 
seem  to  have  thought  appropriate  to  the  place  which 
we  have  been  told  all  of  us  should  see  once  and  die 
out  of  sheer  ecstasy  over  its  beauty.  But  why  are 
only  the  slums  of  Naples  deemed  appropriate  for 
dramatic  treatment  ? 

How  many  stories  of  Neapolitan  life  have  been 
told  in  operas  since  Auber  wrote  his  "La  Muette  di 
Portici"  I  do  not  know;  doubtless  many  whose 
existence  ended  with  the  stagione  for  which  they 
were  composed.  But  it  is  a  singular  fact  bearing 
on  the  present  discussion  that  when  the  young 
"veritists"  of  Italy  broke  loose  after  the  success  of 


240  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Mascagni's  "Cavalleria  rusticana"  there  came  al- 
most a  universal  desire  to  rush  to  the  Neapolitan 
shambles  for  subjects.  New  York  has  been  spared 
all  of  these  operas  which  I  have  described  in  an 
earlier  chapter  of  this  book,  except  the  delectable 
"A  Basso  Porto"  which  Mr.  Savage's  company 
gave  to  us  in  English  sixteen  years  ago ;  but  never 
since. 

Whether  or  not  Wolf -Ferrari  got  the  subject  of 
"I  Giojelli  della  Madonna"  from  the  sources  drawn 
on  by  his  predecessors,  I  do  not  know.  I  believe 
that,  like  Leoncavallo,  he  has  said  that  the  story 
of  his  opera  has  a  basis  of  fact.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
it  is  certain  that  the  composer  called  on  two  versi- 
fiers to  help  him  out  in  making  the  book  of  the 
opera  and  that  the  story  in  its  essence  is  not  far 
removed  from  that  of  the  French  opera  "Aphrodite," 
by  Baron  Erlanger.  In  that  opera  there  is  a  rape 
of  the  adornments  cf  a  statue  of  Venus ;  in  Wolf- 
Ferrari's  work  of  the  jewels  enriching  an  effigy 
of  the  Virgin  Mary.  The  story  is  not  as  filthy 
as  the  other  plots  rehearsed  elsewhere,  but  in  it 
there  is  the  same  striving  after  sharp  ("piquant," 
some  will  say)  contrasts,  the  blending  of  things 
sacred  and  profane,  the  mixture  of  ecclesiastical 
music  and  dances,  and  —  what  is  most  significant 
—  the  generous  use  of  the  style  of  melody  which 
came  in  with  Ponchielli  and  his  pupils.  In  "I 
Giojelli  della  Madonna"  a  young  woman  discards 
the  love  of  an  honest-hearted  man  to  throw  herself, 


TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI  241 

out  of  sheer  wantonness,  into  the  arms  of  a  black- 
guard dandy.  To  win  her  heart  through  her  love 
of  personal  adornment  the  man  of  faithful  mind 
(the  suggestion  having  come  from  his  rival)  does 
the  desperate  deed  of  stealing  for  her  the  jewels  of 
the  Madonna.  It  is  to  be  assumed  that  she  re- 
wards him  for  the  sacrilegious  act,  but  without 
turning  away  from  the  blackguard,  to  whom  she 
grants  a  stolen  interview  during  the  tune  when 
her  true  love  is  committing  the  crime.  But  even 
the  vulgar  and  wicked  companions  of  the  dandy, 
who  is  a  leader  among  the  Camorristi,  turn  from 
her  with  horror  when  they  discover  the  stolen 
jewels  around  her  neck,  and  she  gives  herself  to 
death  in  the  sea.  Then  the  poor  lover,  placing  the 
jewels  on  the  altar,  invokes  forgiveness,  and,  seeing 
it  in  a  ray  of  light  which  illumines  them,  thrusts  a 
dagger  into  his  heart  and  dies  at  the  feet  of  the 
effigy  of  the  goddess  whom  he  had  profaned. 

The  story  would  not  take  long  in  the  telling 
were  it  not  tricked  out  with  a  multitude  of  incidents 
designed  to  illustrate  the  popular  life  of  Naples 
during  a  festival.  Such  things  are  old,  familiar,  and 
unnecessary  elements,  in  many  cases  not  even 
understood  by  the  audience.  But  with  them  Signer 
Wolf-Ferrari  manages  to  introduce  most  successfully 
the  atmosphere  which  he  preserves  even  throughout 
his  tragical  moments  — the  atmosphere  of  Neapoli- 
tan life  and  feeling.  The  score  is  saturated  with 
Neapolitan  folk-song.  I  say  Neapolitan  rather  than 


242  A  SECOND  BOOK  OF  OPERAS 

Italian,  because  the  mixed  population  of  Naples 
has  introduced  the  elements  which  it  would  be  rash 
to  define  as  always  Italian,  or  even  Latin.  While 
doing  this  the  composer  surrendered  himself  un- 
reservedly and  frankly  to  other  influences.  That 
is  one  of  the  things  which  make  him  admirable  in 
the  estimation  of  latter-day  critics.  In  "Le  Donne 
Curiose"  he  is  most  lovingly  frank  in  his  compan- 
ionship with  Mozart.  In  "II  Segreto"  there  is  a 
combination  of  all  the  styles  that  prevailed  from 
Mozart  to  Donizetti.  In  "I  Giojelli"  no  attempt 
seems  to  have  been  made  by  him  to  avoid  compari- 
son with  the  composer  who  has  made  the  most 
successful  attempt  at  giving  musical  expression  to 
a  drama  which  fifty  years  ago  the  most  farsighted 
of  critics  would  have  set  down  as  too  rapid  of  move- 
ment to  admit  of  adequate  musical  expression  — 
Mascagni  and  his  "Cavalleria  rusticana,"  of  course. 
But  I  am  tempted  to  say  that  the  most  marvellous 
faculty  of  Wolf-Ferrari  is  to  do  all  these  things 
without  sacrifice  of  his  individuality.  He  has  gone 
further.  In  "La  Vita  Nuova"  there  is  again  an 
entirely  different  man.  Nothing  in  his  operas 
seems  half  so  daring  as  everything  in  this  cantata. 
How  he  could  produce  a  feeling  of  medisevalism  in 
the  setting  of  Dante's  sonnets  and  yet  make  use 
of  the  most  modern  means  of  harmonization  and 
orchestration  is  still  a  mystery  to  this  reviewer. 
Yet,  having  done  it  long  ago,  he  takes  up  the  modern 
style  of  Italian  melody  and  blends  it  with  the  old 


TWO  OPERAS  BY  WOLF-FERRARI  243 

church  song,  so  that  while  you  are  made  to  think 
one  moment  of  Mascagni,  you  are  set  back  a  couple 
of  centuries  by  the  cadences  and  harmonies  of  the 
hymns  which  find  their  way  into  the  merrymakings 
of  the  festa.  But  everything  appeals  to  the  ear  — 
nothing  offends  it,  and  for  that,  whatever  our 
philosophical  notions,  we  ought  to  be  grateful  to 
the  melodiousness,  the  euphony,  and  the  rich  or- 
chestration of  the  new  opera.1 

1  The  performances  of  "I  Giojelli  della  Madonna"  by  the 
Chicago-Philadelphia  Opera  Company,  as  it  was  called  in 
Chicago,  the  Philadelphia-Chicago  Opera  Company,  as  it  was 
called  in  Philadelphia,  were  conducted  by  Cleofonte  Campaninl 
and  the  principal  parts  were  in  the  hands  of  Carolina  Whit%. 
Louise  Berat,  Amadeo  Bassi,  and  Mario  Sammarco. 


Mr.  Krehbiel's  other  book,  A  BOOK  OF  OPERAS. 

takes  up  the  older  classics  such  as  Faust, 

Aida  and  the  Wagnerian  Ring. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


Hi 


000  079  283 


